


Times Change

by Brosephg



Category: Toaru Kagaku no Railgun | A Certain Scientific Railgun, Toaru Majutsu no Index | A Certain Magical Index
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Loving Marriage, Married Characters, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Original Character(s), Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 232,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brosephg/pseuds/Brosephg
Summary: In a world of tragedies, what if a certain tragedy never came to be? What if a bleak destiny was averted, and everything happened differently? AU. Touma X Misaki. Spinoff of A Certain Strange Scenario.
Relationships: Hamazura Shiage/Takitsubo Rikou, Kamijou Touma/Shokuhou Misaki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Times Change

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was originally uploaded in multiple parts on another platform, starting on 01/06/2017. Set in a distant, hypothetical future entirely separate from the current, canonical goings-on of Kamachi Kazuma's 'Toaru Majutsu no Index' series of light novels, this piece is a spinoff from A Certain Strange Scenario. While the Strange Scenario is centered on a darker, plot-driven narrative, this piece will fall into the genre of "slice of life"; that's not to say that this piece won't have its fair share of action and adventure, and that's not to say that it won't have dark moments. Many characters who don't, or won't make appearances in A Certain Strange Scenario will appear in this piece, and I'd like to develop as many characters as I reasonably can over the course of the narrative. Like A Certain Strange Scenario, this piece takes place ten years after the events of the Index Arc, in an alternate timeline in which Misaki and Touma's encounter with Deadlock didn't end in great tragedy; instead, it gave rise to something beautiful.
> 
> I won't dump an absolute load of exposition in this introduction; rather, I'd like to carefully sprinkle tidbits about the alternate timeline this piece takes place in. So far, I've said alternate timeline as not to invoke confusion. While A Certain Strange Scenario takes place in an alternate universe that differs considerably from Kamachi Kazuma's wonderful canon, this piece takes place in an alternate timeline of that alternate universe.
> 
> Though it should go without saying, I ought to say it, regardless. I do not, in any way, shape or form own, or claim ownership of anything written within. This piece is a fan-made love letter to my favorite pairing from the wonderful Toaru Majutsu no Index series; though it brings joy to myself, and hopefully to those who read it, this piece will generate no gain, monetary or otherwise, for me in any way, shape or form. Toaru Majutsu no Index is Kamachi Kazuma and ASCII Media Works.

October 8th, 2014. 1:38 PM. Present time.

All heads turned to the mysterious, bandana-wearing figure who had pushed open the heavy metallic door. A trio of young men dressed in garbs identical to the newcomer's sat on the hardwood floors of a spacious bedroom, situated in a semicircle. Each wore a crimson red, hooded sweatshirt, baggy crimson sweatpants with deep, spacious pockets, and shoes of varying colors and styles. They didn't have bandanas around their necks, which seemed to separate them from the newcomer. The newcomer kneeled in front of their cohorts, put their hands in their lap, and began to speak.

"Do you have the stuff? Where are your backpacks? Misaka wants to see backpacks filled with supplies, or Misaka is going to be terribly disappointed. Disappointing Misaka is what you do best, but Misaka would like to be proved wrong for once," the newcomer critiqued.

One of the larger young men, who had the sides of his head shaved and a bit of stubble on his face tossed his backpack before the newcomer. Of North American descent, his eyes were dark green, a rarity in a place like Academy City where most of the population was Japanese. The young man's bag was large, considerably larger than most backpacks a student would use to carry a heavy load.

"I've got my stuff right here, boss. It was a bitch to find! Everyone and their grandma wants a Mega Soaker 6800!" The young man complained. He swiftly attempted to unzip the backpack, fiddling with the zipper at the halfway point to 'help' it over some unseen obstacle, and then produced what appeared to be a large firearm. On the side of the weapon, there was a translucent plastic nozzle, as well as a strap that would allow the weapon to be carried on one's back. The young man placed the weapon on the floor, and then dug to the bottom of his backpack. Moments later, his arm re-emerged. In his hand, he tightly gripped a bottle of red wine. "Got the wine too, boss."

The newcomer nodded their head in satisfaction. "Misaka is pleased by your success, maggot. Misaka wants to see what your partners in crime brought for her."

The newcomer's other two henchmen opened their backpacks, both of whom struggled considerably less than the first, and produced their goods. Both had weapons identical to the first young man's, though their 'ammunition' was different. The second produced a bottle of cooking oil, and the third produced multiple cans of coffee.

The newcomer, and apparent mastermind of the group looked over the supplies, their amber eyes making note of each individual item. They occasionally stopped, nodded, and continued with their inspection, until their requirements, whatever those might have been, were met.

"Good, good! Misaka is proud that her idiot goons can at least do something right. The time is nigh! Misaka will lead you into battle!" The newcomer tossed their head back and laughed manically as they wrung their hands together.

It was then that a dark, irritated presence invaded the group's evil lair. Two of the newcomer's three henchmen shied away; they moved as far away from the metallic door as they could, abandoning their weapons and their leader. The third, however, didn't move. Instead, he looked up to the unwelcomed guest quizzically.

"Damn brat. You and your friends need to keep it the fuck down. I'm trying to fucking sleep. Don't let it happen again." Accelerator commanded. Seconds passed, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance as he registered exactly what the group of brats were wearing. "Tch. Why are you dressed like that? You look like you're fucking retarded."

"Misaka can take it all off, if you want." Worst purred. A groggy, barely awake Accelerator growled. "Fuck off. Keep it down, brat. You're worse than the other brat, and that's really saying a lot." Worst shrugged nonchalantly and returned her attention to the cohorts that had left her to the mercy of the number one strongest esper in Academy City. "Go get your beauty sleep, tou-san. Misaka will jump your bones later," Worst taunted. Accelerator gently flicked Worst on the back of the head and left the room, mumbling to himself about "goddamn brats".

"I-Is he gone?" The second cohort nervously questioned. The young man tugged at his blue baseball cap, which he wore backwards. He either wasn't aware that his hat clashed with the rest of his outfit, or he didn't care. Of Japanese descent, he had bushy eyebrows and light brown eyes, whose pupils had shrunk as fear coursed through him.

"Tou-san is tsundere; tou-san actually likes you. Tou-san wouldn't hurt Misaka or you idiots. Focus! Misaka's plans aren't going to enact themselves." Two of Worst's hired guns nodded their heads reluctantly as their leader rose from her kneeling position. Each filled their weapons with the 'ammunition' they had brought.

"Where's your weapon, boss? Aren't you bringing anything with you?" The first cohort inquired. He had strapped his weapon across his back, and had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"Weapons?" Worst laughed. "Misaka doesn't need weapons!"

Worst held the door to her bedroom open, and encouraged her hired guns to proceed by waving her arm impatiently. "Ladies first; Misaka was taught always to be polite."

The first cohort, followed by the second, and finally, the third, took their leave. Worst wasn't far behind. She closed the door of her bedroom, and proceeded to lock it with a key she had produced from the pockets of her sweatpants.

Worst and her minions took a right down a short hallway, which lead to a flight of stairs. The left lead to an upstairs bathroom, as well as Last Order's bedroom; Worst had no business to attend to in either of those rooms. The group descended the stairs, and entered the cozy television room of her school district eight home; in Academy City's past, school district eight was used almost exclusively to house the City's teachers and other staff, but as the student population aged, accommodations had to be made.

A leather couch, spacious enough to easily fit five or six people was pressed against the southern wall of the television room, along with a fluffy, white carpet that sat in front of it. A wide flat-screen television hung on the wall to the north of the couch, and in the space between the couch and the television, there was a coffee table; crumpled cans of black coffee littered its smooth-looking surface. Framed pictures of the family that dwelled in that home were carefully and purposefully placed about, not only on the walls, but also on the coffee table, as well.

Worst turned her attention to the figure sprawled out across the couch. Shoulder length, messy white hair, a half-open, black button-up shirt, a pair of tight-fitting black jeans, and cheap white trainers. This was Accelerator's typical look; the number one strongest esper in Academy City never particularly cared about his appearance. He had more important things to concern himself with.

"Tou-san, Misaka is going out." Worst announced as she loomed over her guardian.

Accelerator groaned impatiently as he rose up; his long, unkempt bangs hung in his face, obscuring his crimson eyes. The number one glared at Worst's cohorts, two of whom instinctively stepped back uncomfortably. The third remained standing, undaunted, with his hands in his sweatshirt's front pocket.

"Tch." Accelerator looked past Worst, and to the stalwart young man that stood near her. "Guy behind the fucking brat. You aren't shitting yourself, by the looks of it. Or maybe you are, and you're just a really good actor. What can you do? What's your ability? Don't fucking lie to me." Accelerator demanded. He rose up without the aid of his crutch; his upgraded choker allowed for constant use of his ability for up to one hundred and sixty-eight hours before the device's batteries ran dry.

"Pyrokinesist, level three; just advanced from two a couple of years ago," The taller, bulkier young man responded. He appeared to be of Japanese descent, with short, hastily combed black hair. The stubble that dotted the lower halves of his cheeks, chin, and upper lip was thicker than that of the first of Worst's henchmen.

"That's all? What the fuck is this?" Accelerator grumbled. "The last person who dared to stand against me like this had an impossible power… but that was a very long time ago. You're not another goddamn hero, are you? Between that bastard and the seventh ranked, the world's supply of painkillers wouldn't be enough to soothe my fucking headache."

"No idea what you're talking about, at least with the number seven." The pyrokinesist replied nonchalantly. "Level three doesn't sound like a lot, does it? But, in the end, it's not your level that counts; it's how you use your ability. I'll answer your question, Accelerator-san. I'm not what you'd call a hero. I don't go looking for damsels in distress to save, but I'm down to help people I consider to be friends. This one?" The pyrokinesist pointed his thumb at Worst, who proceeded to stick her tongue out at Accelerator, "This one's my friend."

"Tou-san is jealous that his fuck doll might be taken away from him! Misaka is flattered!" Worst cried in mock-pleasure as her lips curled into a devious, shit-eating grin.

Accelerator's facial expression was unreadable. He blinked, disrupting the pyrokinesist's view of his crimson eyes momentarily. The albino cocked his head, stood up from his seat on the couch, and began to walk forwards. Still, even then, the Pyrokinesist's will never wavered.

The number one strongest esper could acknowledge a strong-willed person. Accelerator smirked as he thought back to his first real encounter with a certain spiky-haired boy, and that Mental Out brat; a couple of goddamn heroes who had changed everything. "Worst, you two. Beat it. Don't go far. Don't forget your fucking cellphone again."

Worst produced the device from one of the pockets in her sweatpants and waved it triumphantly at her guardian. "Misaka will be waiting to dirty talk with tou-san, whenever he pleases," Worst taunted as she and her two henchmen left the television room. Once Accelerator heard the front door of their home close, he returned his attention to the pyrokinesist.

"What do you know, and how do you know it? The stupid speeches they make all the time about 'clone lives' never fucking mention her. You know more than you're letting on; I've seen you around here a lot. She's close to you, more so than she's been to anyone, aside from me and the other stupid brat, and I want you to fucking tell me why that's the case."

"Why should I?"

"Because it's my goddamn job to know. Don't give me backtalk."

The pyrokinesist smirked, but there was little humor in his expression. He sighed, removed his hands from his sweatshirt's pocket, and crossed his arms. "She's told me bits and pieces over the years, Accelerator-san; about herself, about you, about the Misaka Network, about her sisters, about the younger one named Last Order, and about some supposed "Savior". The sisters' existence might be common knowledge, but… she's told me that there's a lot that people don't know. It upsets you that everyone likes to pretend that everything's okay, now that the cat's out of the bag. It upsets me, too."

Accelerator's expression remained unreadable. He raised one of his snow-colored eyebrows, and made an annoyed sound with his tongue. "You'd better not be trying to fucking use her. If I find out, or if you hurt that goddamn annoying brat in any way, shape or form…"

Accelerator further closed the distance between himself and the pyrokinesist. The albino's face was mere feet away from his conversational partner's.

"I'll stomp on your head until it fucking explodes. I can't take away either of the brats' lives. I can't stop them from making stupid friends, or from annoying every other goddamn person on the planet. I can't hold them here like prisoners… but I can prevent harm from coming to them."

The young man standing before Accelerator lowered his head ever so slightly, and sighed. "If I didn't know any better… I'd ask, "why is that your first assumption, Accelerator-san?" But I know exactly why it's your first assumption. Everyone likes to think that the Darkness is gone, but it's not. It's hiding, playing possum. The UN can try and keep the peace, and pump as much money into this City's economy that they want, but they'll never well and truly kill Academy City's Darkness. Worst, the younger one, and their Sisters are a testament to the Darkness, and living proof that people do terrible, terrible things in the name of science. Notice how I said "do" as opposed to "did". We're not stupid, you and me. We know things. We've seen things. We've both experienced the Darkness in its purest, rawest form." In response, Accelerator's eyes uncharacteristically fell to the floor. His arms hung limp at his sides.

"Did the brat tell you? I slaughtered over ten thousand people. I, Accelerator, the "top dog" of this City… I'm a monster. I'm a fucking monster, brat; a butcher. I'm forced to live with that as a reality. I have to wake up every morning, look at myself in the mirror, and know that I'm a monster. What've you done? What did they make you do?" Accelerator quietly grumbled.

The pyrokinesist shook his head from side to side. "It's not what I did, Accelerator-san; it's what they did to me. Things could've gone… really bad. I don't like talking about it."

Accelerator shrugged indifferently. "Fuck, whatever. Fine. You're free to go, brat; but I'm watching you like a fucking hawk." As Accelerator returned to his seat on the couch, he looked at the pyrokinesist with a serious expression.

"You and those other brats had better keep her safe, or I'll tear you and this fucking City apart." Before the Pyrokinesist had the chance to leave the television room, Accelerator addressed him one last time.

"What's your name? Worst probably told me at some point, but I try my best to block the goddamn brat out."

"Yamashita Junichi. What's yours? Your real one."

"Don't remember."

Yamashita Junichi, the level three pyrokinesist, took his leave. Accelerator heard the sound of his home's front door being gently closed. He returned to, and laid back on the couch, his head propped up against the couch's left arm. Accelerator crossed his legs, and closed his eyes. He hadn't intended for his confrontation with the brat's friend to go that way.

"Accelerator? MISAKA MISAKA asks, speaking timidly as not to evoke Accelerator's rage."

Accelerator's brow furrowed in irritation. He was trying to fall back asleep, not deal with the other brat's bullshit. He hadn't even heard Last Order this time; usually, he heard her footsteps coming down the stairs.

"What the fuck do you want now, Last Order? I just got rid of the other brat," Accelerator grumbled, annoyed.

"MISAKA is hungry, MISAKA MISAKA announces, attempting to subtly inform Accelerator that she's feeling too lazy to prepare her own meal," Last Order stated. She placed her hands over her stomach and rubbed them around to illustrate her point.

Accelerator opened his eyes, and looked up at Last Order's tall, slender form. Accelerator remembered when she had once worn little more than a blue, white-spotted dress with white sandals, an outfit she had been given. Now, Last Order had developed her own taste in fashion, from seeing the way other women dressed, from watching television, and even from playing certain life simulation video games. Last Order had chosen to wear a warm, fuzzy-looking light grey sweatshirt that lacked a hood, and a pair of baggy denim jeans that reached well past her ankles. Her chestnut colored hair, which fell to her shoulders if she wore it straight, was tied up in a bun. Accelerator stared at the clone of Misaka Mikoto for a moment, and something hit him; Last Order had grown so much… too much.

At first, when Last Order's body, and then her mind, first began to show signs of maturation, Accelerator had been surprised that she was capable of growing at all; he assumed the clones had been pumped full of some sort of anti-aging drug at birth by Academy City's faculty, but that apparently hadn't been the case. Last Order's growth into an adult had been, and still was bittersweet for the number one ranked esper; as Last Order grew, both mentally and physically, Accelerator had found that the figurative leash he had been able to keep on her had broke, and that she naturally began to outgrow her need for a guardian. Soon, Last Order wouldn't need Accelerator's protection. It was a reality that silently gnawed at the foundations of everything Academy City's 'top dog' had built his redemption around.

Accelerator gave a sigh of defeat, and stood up from the comfort of the couch. Last Order's eyes glowed with joy at the realization that her lunch would be prepared for her. "Thank you, Accelerator! MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, overjoyed at the prospect of indulging even more in her sloth-like behavior!" Last Order happily said with a wide, beautiful smile on her face.

"You're welcome… spoiled goddamn brat."

Kamijou Touma stepped out from the public transportation vehicle that had dropped him off some blocks away from his apartment complex. He struggled to keep his eyes open, and he felt like he was going to fall asleep right then and there.

It had been a tough, misfortune-filled day at the shipping and receiving warehouse Touma worked in. It was one of the largest in school district seven, and there was never a shortage of duties to be performed. Ten years ago, the idea of people in Academy City working average, everyday jobs would've been scoffed at; but as the City's population aged and their academic studies came to an end, employment opportunities had become an obvious necessity.

To an outsider, Touma didn't look like the type to be so easily bested by his body's biological needs; he was something of a giant. Kamijou Touma stood well over six feet tall, his arms and legs were powerfully built from years of mixed martial arts training and intense workout sessions. His neck was thick and strong, and though he had never put a lot of time into developing abs, his barrel chest was enough to deter almost any potential troublemakers. Despite his outward appearance, however, Touma's athletic body felt like lead to him.

"We really need to invest in a car… so long as Index never gets her license. Then again, would I really be able to drive like this?"

Touma's walk would be a considerable one; he had six city blocks to traverse. To a rested and alert person, struggling to walk six city blocks might've been considered a problem that was exclusive to the morbidly obese or the physically handicapped, but someone who was rested and alert wouldn't have understood the trials and tribulations of a sleep-deprived Kamijou Touma.

Index and Misaki had gotten far too into the video game that they had been playing the night before, and Othinus' cheering and snide, pseudo-motivational speeches didn't help the young man get to sleep any faster.

His walk home thus far had been surprisingly peaceful; the misfortune that followed him like a cloud had given him something of a reprieve. He had encountered swarms of Tokiwadai students, both male and female, which surprised him; most Tokiwadai Ojou-Samas stayed in the 'safety' of the School Garden. Perhaps the influx of male students who attended Tokiwadai had changed things.

"Maybe whatever evil force causes my misfortune feels bad for what it did to me earlier; having a damn crate fall on my foot from a platform twenty feet high, or more?! If I weren't so tired, I bet I'd be feeling it more…"

The last of school district seven's high-rise apartment complexes, dorms, and stampeding herds of loud and obnoxious students and chattering adults on their daily commute were left behind as Touma struggled with the tall, ornate glass door of his own apartment complex. His fingers wrapped around the door's metallic handle. Touma pushed on the door, but it didn't budge; he grunted in frustration, and pushed harder. The door fought back, and still wouldn't give way.

"Come on… fucking piece of…"

The door opened as his exhausted mind reverted to subconscious instinct; his arms pulled the door open.

"Such misfortune."

With his first challenge conquered, Touma reached deep into the pocket of his khaki pants and produced his key. He inserted it into the second door's lock, tried to turn it the wrong way twice before he turned it the right way, and stumbled into the apartment complex's spacious lobby. There was a vending machine that offered carbonated soda to any yen-holding parties interested, as well as a number of benches spread around the lobby, all of which sat in front of the lavishly decorated walls. A series of carpets lead from the lobby's front entrance to the two elevators adjacent to the vending machine.

Touma weakly pressed his index finger against the first of two buttons on a silver panel situated between both elevators. Upon releasing his finger, the elevator's button began to glow bright red.

"At least the elevators work…"

After some time, a sweet, merciful elevator came to his rescue; Touma willed his legs to enter. He searched for, and then reached out and pressed his floor's number on the panel inside of the elevator car. To his blurry, unfocused eyes, each of the numbers looked the same, unless he focused deeply on them. The young man allowed himself to lean against the wide railings of the elevator car as it took him to the eighth floor, which his apartment was on. He crossed his arms, and demanded that his body remain awake, at least until he was able to greet his family.

Seconds, which felt more like hours to the exhausted Kamijou Touma went by, before the elevator car came to an abrupt stop. The doors slid open as the elevator's interior speakers produced a startling beep, followed by an obnoxiously loud, synthetic, female voice.

"You have reached: floor eight! If this is your destination, please exit now! Thank you, and have a wonderful day!"

The beep caused Touma's brain to throb, and the disgusting, robotic voice only made him cringe even harder. He shambled out from the elevator car, whose doors slammed shut just as his pant leg escaped their grasp, and made the last, desperate trek towards his apartment. His goal was nearly in sight; it was the second door from the center, on the left side of the hall. Touma's right hand reached out, his fingers struggling with his apartment's key; he felt the key 'click' into place, and with one swift motion, he turned the key to the right, and pushed the door open.

"HIMISAKIINDEXOTHI-CHANI'MHOME!" Touma half-shouted; the words practically fell out of his mouth as he dragged his burden of a mortal shell to the refuge of the soft, welcoming, couch. He hadn't even bothered to try and take off his trainers or his backpack, which only seemed to become heavier and heavier as he moved; Touma let himself fall down upon the soft, cool leather cushions of the couch. Touma stuffed one of the couch's pillows beneath his head, which rested on the couch's right arm, and he sighed in relief. His torment had come to an end.

From the jewel-encrusted door of a luxurious-looking, beautifully and delicately decorated 'dollhouse' that was more like a miniature castle than a house, which was placed next to the television adjacent to the couch, a tiny figure emerged. Fifteen centimeters in height, she was dressed in a small, but very lavish white dress that reached her knees. Its appearance and size considered, the dress had likely come with some expensive collector's doll. Tiny, bare feet slapped against the carpeted floor of the Kamijou residence as Othinus made her way to her 'jailor'. Othinus' long, dutifully combed golden hair hung to her thighs. Barring the fact that such a small being existed and was well and truly 'alive', Othinus' standout feature was the dark, leathery eyepatch that she wore over her right eye, the center of which had a crimson diamond upon it. If she weren't so small, she might've been something of an intimidating figure to look upon.

"Misaki and the nun have gone out; they will return shortly. It would appear that you and I get to spend some quality time together." The former Magic God announced. She scaled the couch's left arm with skill and grace that suggested she was no stranger to this sort of adventure. Touma chuckled; she looked like an adorable little mountain climber. A look of determination could be seen on her face as she struggled to maintain her grip on the semicircular peak of the couch's arm, though she soon succeeded in her quest. Othinus clambered over Touma's head, stepped over his face, along his neck, and then proceeded to sit herself comfortably on his chest.

"Ugh… so tired." Touma grumbled. "Hi Othi-chan… how was your day?"

"Uninteresting; not even once did that overweight, flee-bitten mongrel attempt to lay siege to my abode," Othinus complained, looking to the mass of fur and fat that had curled up next to her fortress. "I must admit; I've grown used to fending it off. What of yours? You appear to be spent."

"Spent doesn't describe it…" Touma muttered in a state of blurry pseudo-awareness. "I didn't sleep at all last night; Misaki and Index, you too, that game… too loud. Didn't want to take away your fun, thought I could sleep through it. Guess I thought wrong. Hard day, lots of lifting, cranes were busted, all of them, we had to do everything manually."

The tiny former Magic God looked at Touma as if he was mentally deficient. She tossed her head to one side, effectively pushing away the golden bangs that had fallen into her face. "Then sleep. It's what you mortals do best."

"You sleep too," Touma pointed out. Even in his exhausted state of being, his lips were able to curl into a cocky grin.

Othinus pouted, utterly defeated, and turned herself to face the opposite direction of Touma's face, her arms crossed in defiance. Still, the former Magic God was curious. She felt more than she heard the rhythmic movements of Kamijou Touma's chest; he hadn't let himself fall asleep when he was so obviously in need of rest.

"Do you seek pain's company? Let yourself fall into unconsciousness, fool. At least then I'll be able to talk with you properly, once you awaken." Othinus commanded, still facing away from her jailor. There was a short delay before his reply came; "not until the rest of the family gets home. I want to see Misaki and Index, too. I love talking to you guys when I get home from work, all of you."

Othinus was taken aback at first. Sooner than later, she felt a thin smile force its way onto her face. "Family…? If you and your mate consider the nun and I to be your family, then we are a strange family indeed. Fate is whimsical. Ten mortal years ago, if this man tried to tell me that this would be my future, I would have crowned him a king of lies, and then I would have destroyed the very concept of his existence."

"Othi-chan? You're awfully quiet." Touma stated. "Everything good?" Othinus' body jumped in response as her mind surfaced from the figurative pool of contemplation it had found itself sinking deeper and deeper into. A shiver ran down the former Magic God's spine, and she shook her tiny head to collect her larger than life musings.

"Nothing's wrong, Touma. I was merely thinking," Othinus replied. She turned her body around to its original position, and faced Touma again. She raised her knees, and placed her chin on them.

"About?" Touma pried. The behavior of his miniature "prisoner" had gripped his curiosity. He wanted to learn more; as of recent, it seemed that Othinus wished to try and keep her thoughts to herself, and to leave the past behind them, despite the importance of the mutual understanding that brought them to this moment that they found themselves in. Touma wanted to dig deeper, but at the same time, he wanted to bury everything.

"The past. That's all you need to know." The former Magic God responded, ending the conversation.

The curled up, obese, calico bundle of unconditional love and empty calories named Sphynx raised its head; its eyes were only half-open, and its ears twitched as it stared at the young adult human and the tiny former Magic God.

Othinus quickly moved to put an end to the moment, which, to her, had become rather uncomfortable. "My nemesis awakens; the time to strike is now. I will return, and we will finish this, when my feline foe is vanquished!" Othinus exclaimed. She climbed to the edge of the couch's cushions, leapt to the carpeted floor beneath her, and charged into battle.

Touma watched on, entertained as Othinus closed the distance, which was only a few feet from his perspective, between herself and Sphynx. She bent her little legs, and leapt into the air, arms outstretched. The swift, sudden movement of Othinus' small frame generated an equally tiny gust of air, which caused her golden hair to flutter. Closer and closer Othinus came, the pupil in her visible emerald green left eye widening in excitement…

Swoosh.

Othinus was swatted away by a gentle slap from Sphynx's paw. The carpeted floor cushioned Othinus' impact; the only part of the former Magic God that found itself damaged was her pride. Othinus rose up from the floor, and angrily pumped her tiny fist in the air. "Curses! Foiled again!"

A burst of energy came over the usually lethargic elderly feline; Sphynx rose up to its feet, opened its mouth, and produced a long, silent yawn. Carrying itself with the grace of a drunken househusband, Sphynx went on the offensive. Without so much of a second of hesitation, Othinus fled in fear. "Touma! Fool! Deaf mortal! Come to my aid! HELP!" Soon, both were gone from his sight, though Touma could still hear Othinus' complaints from elsewhere in the apartment, as well as Sphynx's meows of what he assumed was challenge.

Touma wasn't alone for long, however. His heart jumped into his throat as he heard the door to the apartment being unlocked. Touma focused all of his strength into one singular movement; he willed his body to sit up, rebelling against its pleas for sweet unconsciousness.

Index was the first to step in; in either of her hands, she tightly gripped a single plastic bag of what looked to be groceries, given their logo and the slogan beneath; "why visit a supermarket, or even a megamarket, when you could visit an ULTRAMARKET? ™"

The nun wore a Walking Church better tailored to her adult body's proportions; unlike her first robe that she had worn as a teenager, Index's new Walking Church actually guarded her. So long as Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker didn't come into contact with the protective garb, it made Index nearly invulnerable to most forms of harm that could potentially come her way. Though Touma knew that Index likely would've needed a new Walking Church as her body grew, he continued to feel bad for accidentally destroying the original ten years prior.

Following not far behind was Touma's beloved soul mate, Kamijou Misaki, who carried at least three or four bags of groceries from the same Ultramarket, which was very likely Ken's Ultramarket; a new chain of superstores that had opened their doors worldwide some months ago.

The visible muscles in Misaki's toned arms were slightly more pronounced than usual, though she didn't appear to be struggling. Long gone was the out of shape, ability-abusing Ojou-Sama that Kamijou Touma knew when he had first met this beautiful woman, when she was still what he called the 'Mental Out girl'. At the time, he had no idea that the 'Mental Out girl' would go on to become his wife.

Years ago, the seeds of her changes, physical and mental, were planted in Misaki's mind by the desire to protect those she loved. Kamijou Misaki had become a powerhouse of strength and endurance that very few could truthfully claim to rival.

Misaki had apparently decided to wear one of her favorite outfits; a bright yellow and white striped blouse, a pair of bright yellow leggings, and white flats. Her long, majestic blonde hair was neatly tied back, and her bangs were placed carefully behind her right ear. Misaki's starry eyes were revealed as she removed her designer sunglasses. Upon her hands, Misaki wore a pair of stylish, lacy white gloves.

"Touma! You're home!" Index happily exclaimed as she kicked off her loafers and ran excitedly to her adoptive guardian's side, her bags of groceries left behind for one of her guardians to look after. "Me and Misaki missed you! So did Othinus, but she didn't come with us. Misaki took me shopping! Look at all the food we got!" The nun beamed.

A wide, peaceful, absolutely content smile formed on Touma's face as he rose up from the couch; having momentarily forgotten his debilitating fatigue, he lurched forward. Once his feet touched the ground, Touma found himself nearly tripping as his head spun. His vision became blurry and unfocused.

Without so much as a word, Misaki dropped her groceries, and, with lightning-fast reflexes, was at her husband's side; she had prevented an untimely meeting between Touma's face and the floor. Index took to his other side, and the two worked in unison to hold up the imposingly tall, and equally heavy bundle of muscle and heroism.

"Baby? Baby?! Are you okay?! Please talk to me! What happened?!" Misaki anxiously demanded, her arms wrapped around her husband's own arm.

"Don't worry, beautiful, just tired. Really tired. Didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Already said hi to Othi-chan. Wanted to wait for you and Index to get home before I…"

Touma's body had just about enough; his higher mind's emotions and desires were brutally beaten into absolute submission as his body revolted. Touma fell asleep. His head drooped, and he began to quietly snore. As he went limp, Touma became even heavier, and Misaki found herself supporting most of his weight; Index valiantly tried, but seemed to fail.

"My prince. My gentleman. God, I love you." Misaki whispered more to herself than to her slumbering husband or Index.

"Poor Touma… I'll get a blanket!" Index offered, as she took off for her room. Misaki sat her sleeping husband down, leaned in, and, as softly as she could, pressed a kiss to his cheek. Though not quite satisfied for the time being, her body's increased rate of breathing, no doubt caused by the sudden wave of anxiety that had washed over her, began to slow as she slowly, carefully lowered her husband into a position on the couch that, at the very least, she knew looked comfortable.

Index returned shortly after with a long, wide, warm-looking comforter draped over her form. If the comforter had been white, as opposed to lavender and navy blue, she would've resembled a cutesy paper ghost. Apparently able to see beneath the veil, Index passed the comforter to Misaki, and the two let it fall upon Touma's sleeping form.

"How did Touma get home? He couldn't even stand!" Index stated in a hushed voice. As Misaki moved to pick up her groceries, Index did the same.

"Touma was born with an unbreakable will… well, an almost unbreakable will." Misaki replied, not caring if the context of her reply was detected by Index.

Despite herself, and despite the anxiousness that still existed within her, Misaki yearned for her husband. Her desire felt out of place, but she knew it to be perfectly natural. Misaki hadn't been able to become intimate with her husband for nearly the entire week, and a mountain of sexual frustration was building up within her.

"Almost?" Index inquired. The nun had raised her eyebrow suggestively, and her lips had curled into a snide, knowing smirk. Misaki grumbled as she and Index entered their apartment's spacious, tidy kitchen. From the kitchen's entrance, there was a long, wide counter, with two sinks, as well as numerous drawers beneath the counter's surface. Opposite the counter, there was a large, white and silver stove with six burners, a dishwasher, and a tall, spacious refrigerator. On the other side, there was a metallic dinner table, long and wide enough to easily serve a large group of people. A few feet away from the kitchen, there was a beautiful, tall and fairly expensive-looking cabinet that held many dishes and plates. It had belonged to Kamijou Touya and Kamijou Shiina at once point in time; Touma's parents had passed it onto their son and daughter-in-law days after their wedding ceremony.

"It was always so easy to be sneaky around you when we were teenagers." Misaki jokingly mock-taunted.

Index giggled, and wagged her finger at her adoptive guardian, as if to reprimand her. "You slipped up one too many times, Misaki! Now, I know your secrets! You can't hide anything from me!"

As Misaki began storing the appropriate goods in the refrigerator, she shook her head. "I have taught you too well; I have created a monster. To be frank, I still prefer this to watching my partner being bitten." A small giggle came from the Mental Out user, which was responded to in kind by Index's own hushed laughter.

Index took to Misaki's side, and began aiding her with putting away the groceries. She took a large bottle of orange juice, and placed it carefully in the corner of the fridge's top shelf. "We do silly things when we're jealous, Misaki. I'm just glad envy didn't create a lasting rift between us," Index stated, with seriousness in her voice. "But that was then, and this is now!" She beamed, and her positive outlook practically shined from her form.

Kamijou Misaki, despite having had this conversation with Index before, still found herself bewildered at just how much Index had grown; not only mentally and emotionally, but physically, as well. It didn't often occur to Misaki that Index, like herself, was an adult now. It had all happened so fast; the last ten years, in retrospect, seemed like a blur to the fifth ranked esper in Academy City. One minute, Index had been a blushing, less-than-talkative mess who was constantly biting into her boyfriend's head to 'cleanse him of his sins', the next, Index supported her guardians in every way, shape, and form.

As she continued to work, Misaki recalled everything that she and her husband had been through over the years, and how much it had changed everyone. From the events that had brought Index to Academy City, to Accelerator's all-consuming psychosis, to the events of the English Civil War, which lead to the Third World War, and, eventually, a conflict with Fiamma of the Right himself. Misaki's will had never wavered as she and her then-boyfriend stood against the Magic God that ended up living with them. They had faced every challenge together, even the events that lead up to the singular scenario that changed everything; October twenty eighth, 2009, the day that the historic Fall of the Director took place; a day in which the great and terrible illusion of an artificial Heaven on earth had been shattered.

Things could have gone much, much worse; and yet they didn't. The rest of the world, despite having no real reason to do so, stepped in at the behest of the United Nations and saved Academy City from certain doom once its 'heart' had perished. Misaki recalled, in that moment, the massive data leak that occurred not long after. It had been the largest in history; everything Academy City had ever hid from the world came to light, and through it, the Darkness had been exposed, hunted down, and systematically purged… supposedly. But Kamijou Misaki knew better. The Darkness survived, somehow, and somewhere. In some dark crevice, she knew that the Darkness was biding its time; she knew that the Fall of the Director was merely a setback for the so easily dehumanized legions of Academy City's Dark Side. If Magic could remain hidden from the world, even after a data leak beyond compare, other matters could be hidden, too.

Some time had passed; Misaki and Index had finished their lengthy errand, and both could rest satisfied, knowing that the refrigerator was well stocked, at least for a few weeks. Since Index possessed a fully developed adult body, her stomach didn't crave nearly as much food as it did when she was younger. Either that, or whatever nutrition-demanding force that dwelled within the nun had fled once her body reached maturity.

Index smiled triumphantly as she and Misaki walked back into their warm, cozy living room. Othinus had emerged at some point, riding upon the back of a certain amused-looking calico cat.

"I have triumphed over the feral beast! Behold my power, mortals!" Othinus squeaked from atop her mount. Misaki rolled her eyes at the antics of the former Magic God; Othinus' presence was something she hadn't quite come to grips with, despite living with her for close to a decade. Misaki knew all too well of her husband's bizarre friendship with the tiny, irritating faerie, and she respected it, and to a degree, Othinus herself, but there was a deep-rooted sense of anger, though not quite hatred, that Misaki held for the former Magic God. At the very least, Misaki could admit that Othinus was agreeable.

"Hyaah! Charge, beast! Into battle! We will defeat Misaki the Usurper and the nun, and we shall have Touma for ourselves! Victory or death! For honor and glory! F-"

A dark aura fell upon the Kamijou residence. In two strides, Misaki had covered the distance between herself and the suddenly less agreeable Othinus. She reached down, and plucked the tiny being from her mount's back. Sphynx didn't seem particularly concerned; it simply laid down and quietly purred as it began to wash its tail.

"Oh?" Misaki asked, irritation evident in her voice. A vein throbbed in the Mental Out user's head, and she held Othinus up, so that the former Magic God's singular remaining eye could peer into her own starry eyes.

"You know deep down in your mortal heart that you can't harm me, Misaki." Othinus said, completely confident. Though she found herself in the grip of a giant foe, Othinus had learned many tricks over the last decade; her tiny stature was barely an inconvenience at this point. Through her own ingenuity, Othinus could perform many, though, not all of the same tasks that a full-sized human being could perform.

Despite her ingenuity, in that moment, Othinus knew of only one way out. It was savage and far below her, but it was her only option. Othinus opened her mouth, beared her fangs, and…

Misaki sighed. She would allow the tension to break; Misaki knew Othinus didn't mean it. She allowed herself to go as far as to softly giggle as she slid her left hand beneath her closed right fist, and released her grip on the former Magic God. Othinus stood tall in the palm of Misaki's hand. She dusted herself off, and shook her golden hair about, as if to force filth to fall from it.

"I nearly resorted to unleashing my ultimate ability upon you; the Bite of Doom. Your choice was a wise one," Othinus stated triumphantly. Misaki raised her right hand to her mouth, and sarcastically gasped. "How scary!"

Minutes passed, and relative silence had descended upon the living room of the Kamijou residence; all that could be heard was the exhausted Touma's soft snoring. The atmosphere had long ago become awkward. Misaki and Index sat in front of the living room's television, which remained turned off. Othinus had scaled Misaki's body, and stood on her shoulder.

"Let us go forth and 'play' on that… box in the nun's sanctum; I would like to observe as you play one of those 'video games', as you call them. I consistently find satisfaction in watching you mortals spectacularly fail. Let us journey there immediately, so that I might find entertainment until Touma awakens," Othinus suggested. Index offered a shrug of indifference, and Misaki didn't have any better ideas. Though she wanted her husband, she knew she'd have to be patient.

"I want to climb in with Touma, and snuggle up to him… but I do not want to wake him. I suppose playing videogames with Index and Othinus will help speed things along. Besides… Index and I must break our tie, after all."

"About time you got here; Misaka thought you bitched out," Worst taunted as Junichi turned the corner from the spectacular-looking high rise condominium that Accelerator and his family lived in. Worst stood on the opposite side of the street, in front of a series of lavish-looking dorms; Worst and Junichi knew they were dorms only because she had seen students pouring in and out from them. To anyone who didn't know, they'd look like towers of brightly-colored metal and glass. Though their architecture wasn't nearly as unique as the architecture found in a place like the School Garden, it could certainly be considered eye candy.

When the pyrokinesist had come to this part of school district eight for the first time, it came as something of a surprise to the him that the number one strongest esper, known to be anything but a people person, lived in a neighborhood like this; while all of school district seven was impeccable in its outward appearance, this area in particular seemed to have an even higher standard of living than most.

"Accelerator-san is a mother hen," Junichi grumbled, after he had crossed the street. He stood adjacent to Worst, and looked to the young woman expectantly.

"… where are those two idiots?" Junichi asked. "Kinda just noticed that they're gone."

Worst rubbed her temples with her index fingers as a scowl appeared on her face. "Those maggots left Misaka behind; tou-san spooked them. All the better, let the weak be culled! Misaka has no need for weaklings."

The pyrokinesist chuckled. He stuffed his hands back into his sweatshirt's front pocket and looked out into the distance. As far as his eyes could see, Academy City, the land of science, skyscrapers and shady, backdoor experiments was a land ripe for plundering, and an even riper land for pranking. Junichi took the lead, slowly walking away from Worst. "Good thing I brought extra coffee… soon, all of Academy City will know our name… PRANK."

"Is that really what we're calling ourselves? Misaka thinks it sounds stupid. Misaka suggests a better name, like… actually, Misaka can't think of anything better. "Misaka's Prank Army" just doesn't sound good inside her head, and it sounds worse out loud. PRANK it is."


	2. PRANK Rising

There was a thunderous crash whose shockwaves rang throughout the halls of a ruined temple. The roof of one of its many antechambers had collapsed, sending a hail of dislodged, shattered golden bricks falling to the paved floors below. An enormous, axe-wielding barbarian had cornered an extremely skinny tuxedo-clad gorilla with lobster hands and hooves of a horse. The simian abomination lunged, but was whacked away by the barbarian's curved, sharpened axe.

The barbarian swung his weapon, and the gorilla raised his arms in front of his face in one final, pathetic attempt at self defense; his tactic was an ineffective one. The barbarian raised his blood-stained axe, and, with a savage cry of ferocity, delivered the killing blow. The head of the axe was buried in the simian's skull, which immediately exploded and showered their shared battleground in blood, brain matter and bone fragments.

"CURMAN WINS! BRUTALIZED!"

Index grunted in frustration as she let her controller fall into her lap. The nun held her chin up with her open palm, and tapped her cheek with her fingers. "Have you ever considered entering a Bloody Fist tournament? I think you could make it to the top, Misaki." Index commented. Though the nun lamented her loss, she wouldn't allow herself to act like a sore loser.

Misaki's cheeks became crimson red as heat rushed to her face. "Thank you, Index! I am not all that good; those who participate in tournaments could effortlessly destroy me. Misaka-san, who does not participate in tournaments at all, is more than a match for me."

"Another round. Already I grow bored of your mindless interactions, mortals." Othinus complained. She kicked her legs back and forth; her tiny heels hit Misaki's shoulder over and over, though the Mental Out user didn't seem to notice.

"Why don't you play for yourself, "Othi-chan?" Misaki asked with a hint of contempt in her voice. She craned her head to look down at the tiny former Magic God. Othinus shrugged indifferently as she ran her hands through her luscious, golden locks. "Those cumbersome controllers are far too large for me. Besides, I prefer to watch your characters beat one another senseless. It amuses me."

Index, sensing the growing tension in the air, resolved to kill it prematurely. "W-why don't we switch characters, Misaki? The Primate Pounder is kind of lousy. I think I might do better if I had a character with better a better defense stat!"

Index's tactic seemed to work; Misaki's attention returned to the nun. Misaki offered a warm smile and pressed the "B" button on her controller, which returned her and Index to Bloody Fist's character selection menu. "I would love to play another round with you. Would you like me to change my character, as well?"

Index shrugged as she moved her highlighted cursor around the menu; dozens of portraits of potential fighters sat in front of a blood-splattered, ruined cobblestone background. Rusted, blood-soaked chains dangled from the bottom corners of the menu, and produced a rattling sound each time the cursor was moved from portrait to portrait.

Index's cursor landed on the portrait of the upper half of what looked to be some sort of dragon-human hybrid; sickly green, fiery scales covered the beast from its snout to its waist, and it had enormous, torn, bat-like wings protruding from its back. The beast's eyes glowed crimson red, and what appeared to be tears of blood dripped from the corners of its eyes.

The nun grinned as she pressed the "A" button on her controller. Misaki didn't seem to notice what character her opponent had selected. After a few moments of indecision, Misaki opted to not change characters.

There was a short loading screen that displayed various tricks and tips to assist new players, such as "crouch to avoid incoming blows! It could save your life!" and "if you find yourself in a corner, press up to jump, and get back into the fray!" In less than twenty seconds, Misaki and Index's characters were tossed into another battle, this time on what appeared to be a large, burning cruise ship that had encountered the misfortune of becoming lost at sea; swarms of detailed former passengers fled from the ruined ship, their getaways, romantic or otherwise completely ruined.

"Draco the Knightbreaker… versus… Curman! FIGHT!" the enthusiastic voice of Bloody Fist's announcer proclaimed. Index turned away from the screen momentarily to look at her opponent; Misaki's face had lost most, if not all of its color, and her pupils had widened in shock. Index's malicious grin only widened. "You monster, you chose HIM?!" Misaki exclaimed in frustration.

Index couldn't hold back; she leaned forward and cackled like a deranged witch as she hit her knee with her closed fist; her Walking Church protected her from any potential bruising that could have come as a result of her actions. "Just don't fill up his Fury Meter, and you'll be fine!"

"There's a reason he's banned from tournaments, Index!" Misaki whined. "That reflection… it's so overpowered…" Index could only giggle in response as she moved her left thumbstick to the right.

Curman charged headfirst into battle. His hide boots slapped against the metallic floors of the cruise ship's deck, his muscular legs carrying him a considerable distance from his starting point. Curman's axe was raised over his head; the fur-clad barbarian tossed his head back and uttered a loud, piercing war cry as he leapt into the air, poised to bury his axe in his foe's chest.

Draco the Knightbreaker rolled to avoid the blow, but its enormous wings proved to be its Achilles' Heel; the axe sliced through its right wing like a knife through butter, and, though Bloody Fist didn't feature body or armor damage, outside of "BRUTALIZED!" cinematics, a considerable chunk of Draco's green life bar vanished in a flash of crimson. The Knightbreaker uttered a grunt of discomfort as it beat its wings and took to the skies.

"Get down from there, Index, you cheater!" Misaki exclaimed in frustration. Her fingers moved swiftly and purposefully across her controller as her grounded barbarian couldn't seem to strike his winged foe, no matter how hard he tried.

"You've actually broken her composure, nun. Keep it up." Othinus commentated.

Curman leapt into the air, hit the ground, rinsed and repeated, over and over again. He swatted his axe at nothing as his foe remained airborne; though the Knightbreaker apparently had no means of attacking while in the air, it was an incredibly irritating farce for the young woman who had control over Curman.

Just as hope began to fade from the woman who controlled Curman, he seemed to unlock a new ability; the right combination of buttons had unintentionally been pressed. Curman gripped the handle of his trusty weapon in both hands, raised his absurdly muscular arms over his head, and, with a mighty toss, sent the weapon spinning through the air. Though Draco made a worthy attempt at dodging the projectile, it was futile. The axe cleaved through Draco's shoulder, and the Knightbreaker came crashing down to the cruise ship below. Its enormous body crashed into the metallic floor, causing the screen to shake as blood spurted from its eyes, mouth, and nostrils. Stars spun around its head as it laid on its back, stunned. Curman had gained the upper hand at last. The barbarian's axe returned to him, and he swung it in a downwards arc; the bloodied weapon bit into its draconic foe's body repeatedly, causing enormous waves of blood and piles of internal organs to fly in every conceivable direction.

Index, despite the dire situation her character found himself in, had a sinister smirk on her face. The shaking orange bar beneath Draco the Knightbreaker's dwindling health bar had been filled to its maximum capacity. The finger on Index's left hand jumped to the "left trigger" button, and the finger on her right to the "X" button. Index pressed both buttons down at the same time, and Draco's orange bar exploded. The screen before the Mental Out user, the nun, and the former Magic God was enveloped in a blindingly bright sea of golden light.

As the light faded, and the game world came back into focus, Kamijou Misaki growled in rage. Index had enabled Draco the Knightbreaker's reflection ability. For thirty seconds, Misaki's character's enemy would be completely invulnerable. Curman's arms were forcibly thrown back as his axe bounced against the Knightbreaker's invisible shield. The Knightbreaker lunged, and swung its tail. Though Curman attempted to roll and avoid the attack, his attempt was thwarted; Draco's tail crashed against Curman's legs, and the barbarian was sent flying, soared over the railings of the cruise ship's deck, and fell out of bounds, resulting in Index winning their battle.

"Ah, it would appear that your overpowered character won. What a surprise," Misaki lamented as she pressed the 'A' button to return to the game's character selection screen. Index giggled as she pressed her thumb against the outstretched hand of Othinus, in a pseudo-high five of sorts. "Well done, nun. You've succeeded through your determination, wit, and the use of a broken character; I couldn't have done better myself," Othinus said, praising her new apprentice.

"Another round? I won't play as Draco, I promise." Index inquired; though the malicious grin had faded from the nun's face, she was far from finished. Misaki smiled warmly and ruffled Index's silver hair with her hands, much to the nun's chagrin. "Maybe tonight? We seem to have lost track of the time, and I have to wake my lazy husband. I do not want to let him ruin his sleep schedule," Misaki responded as she relented, and allowed Index to attempt to fix her hair.

Othinus leapt down from Misaki's shoulder and made her way to Index's leg. She clambered up onto the extremity and knelt down, moving her golden bangs away from her eye as she did so. "Very well; I will take this time to whip the nun into a battle-hardened force to be reckoned with." Othinus proclaimed, arm outstretched. Her hand had curled into a fist, and she wore a determined expression. Misaki could do little more than shake her head and giggle softly to herself as she took her leave from Index's small, but cozy bedroom.

Kamijou Touma felt that something was off. He didn't know what, and he didn't know why, but he simply felt it. His vision was blurry, and the world around him seemed to swim; the walls around him looked to be liquid, rather than solid, and though, much to his relief, a ceiling was present, it too seemed to ripple and splash before him.

As Touma examined his surroundings, he came to realize exactly where it was that he found himself; he was in a place that he was not allowed to enter. His kind was forbidden from this place. If he and his ilk dared to enter, they were deemed trespassers. Or were they? Touma couldn't figure this place out, yet, there he was. Kamijou Touma was in Tokiwadai Middle School. More specifically, Kamijou Touma was in a certain dorm room of Tokiwadai Middle School, with the door locked. Touma noticed a window to his right. No blinds were present, and the window was open, but there was nothing beyond the window. It was as if nothing existed outside of this room, save blackness. Touma felt sickness come over him; he didn't want to look at it any longer than he had to, and so he turned his vision from it.

Even in the darkness of the unlit room, Touma could make out most of his surroundings. Somehow, Touma felt that he had been in this place before. Still, Touma felt that this place was different. The floors were crafted from hardwood, beautifully shined to the point of absurdity. Adjacent to the bed, there was a long, beautifully crafted wooden desk, with a wide, circular white mirror placed against the center of the wall above it. To Touma's right, there were two expensive-looking wooden dressers, whose drawers had delicate flower-like patterns carved into them; Touma only remembered seeing one on his last visit to this place, whenever that might've been. To his left was the tightly locked door, and a large walk-in closet, whose ornate, metallic doors were wide open, revealing rows of delicately hung tops, blazers, and skirts.

Touma looked down at himself, and even in this strange place that seemed unreal, yet felt completely and utterly real, he felt heat rush to his face. He was sprawled out on a large, luxurious bed. To his shock, he wore little more than his boxers. A certain familiar uniform of his had been tossed away and left to rot in a pile. "Kamijou, you idiot! You're… you're almost n-naked! In an Ojou-Sama school, of all the places to be practically naked! Such misfortune… wait… why, though? Why is that a bad thing? I feel as if this is a good thing, but… I'm so confused!"

Soon, another person joined him. A female, to be exact, and everything seemed to come rushing back to him. This female brought great comfort to the nervous Kamijou Touma as soon as he looked at her. She was, given their location, predictably clad in the tight-fitting uniform of Tokiwadai Middle School, which was made up of a white, collared, short-sleeved shirt, a beige blazer which had the middle school's official emblem in its upper right hand corner, and a short navy blue skirt. Accenting the middle school's mandatory uniform, Touma's host wore a pair of elbow-length, lacy white gloves, and thigh high, lacy white stockings to match. Long, luscious, beautiful blonde hair fell to her back, and her eyes – her eyes had beautiful, glowing golden stars in them.

This female was Shokuhou Misaki, his girlfriend, somehow. As Touma looked her up and down, he had a hard time to believe it himself – Misaki was flawless. She had the body of a supermodel, and the mind of a genius. Shokuhou Misaki could have any man she wanted, and yet, she had set her sights on this lowly commoner named Kamijou Touma, whose life was riddled with misfortune and conflict.

"I'm glad to see you're eager, Touma. I'm eager, too, even if I've heard that a girl's first time is the most painful. I know I can trust you; I know… that you won't do anything to harm me." Misaki stated with a warm, loving smile. Misaki climbed onto the bed, and crawled on top of her anxious, nearly panting boyfriend. Touma's heart had quickened at his girlfriend's words. Something, Touma didn't quite understand what, had formed inside of him, yet, he felt as if he understood it completely. With each passing second, it grew. It was a feeling that Touma both was and wasn't familiar with. It confused him, but it also made him feel good. He felt like this was the first time had had found himself in a situation like this, yet, it also felt like he had done this a thousand times with this girl.

Though at least half of Kamijou Touma's mind believed that it had never done anything like this before, his hands seemed to know exactly what to do; he allowed his animal instincts to guide him.

"M-Misaki… can I t-touch you?"

"Of course you can, Kamijou Touma. I want you to be the only man to touch me."

At first, he suddenly became terrified at the thought of what Imagine Breaker might do if it touched his girlfriend's body. He watched on, helpless to act as Imagine Breaker made contact with Misaki's right hip – the distinctive ringing of the unknown power that resided within him didn't come to be. With one barrier broken, his left hand grasped his girlfriend's unoccupied left hip.

"A-are you s-sure you, you know… want this, b-baby? We can stop any time! Honest, n-no drama! All good! Eheheh…" Touma rambled in a hushed voice. He was about to carry on when Misaki swiftly leaned in, pressed her soft lips against his, and silenced him. His eyes closed, and Touma felt his girlfriend's gloved hands begin to softly run through his spiky hair as she periodically produced soft, pleasured moans. Touma opened his eyes ever so slightly, and found that Misaki was furiously blushing; her entire face had turned beet red.

Misaki pulled away, but remained on top of him. She panted, and the lips on her scarlet face curled into an adoring smile. "I do want this, Touma! I want to show you just how much you mean to me… how much I love you, and this is the purest, most natural way of doing so. We've been together long enough, and we've been friends even longer… I know now, more than ever, that I want to take the next step with you, my prince!" Misaki excitedly whispered.

In that moment, Kamijou Touma felt a distinctively familiar confidence, and yet, he felt like he had never been so confident before. The unsure half of Touma felt, perhaps for the first time, even, that this was a decision he wanted to make. "S-so do I, M-Misaki. So do I."

"Kamijou Touma."

"Eh? Misaki? What's up, baby?"

"Baby. Wake up. Come on, wake up. Baby? Oh, you are such a heavy sleeper… wake up? Please? Wait… I have an idea."

Kamijou Touma's eyes opened; no longer was he in the body of a seventeen-year-old boy. He was in the body of a twenty-five-year-old man, sprawled out on the couch of he and his wife's home. Though eight years had passed since that fateful day in which Kamijou Touma and Shokuhou Misaki became one for the first time, Touma found the same woman kneeling before him. She was leaning over him, her lips pressing, separating, and then pressing once again against his. Kamijou Misaki, no longer just his girlfriend, but his beloved wife, was even more beautiful than her sixteen-year-old counterpart.

"I had a feeling that would rouse you. Good evening, sleepyhead." Misaki greeted as she gave herself the chance to come up for air. Touma grinned as he pulled Misaki up onto the couch with him – she gasped, at first, but soon began to giggle. In a familiar scenario, Touma found himself beneath the love of his life. She smiled her beautiful, flawless smile down at him, and her starry eyes looked into Touma's own dark irises. Touma felt like he was on cloud nine. This was his reality, his world; this was no dream.

"Now that you are up, perhaps we could look into dinner? It is quite late, my prince." Misaki suggested. "I could go for something to eat, but I'm not quite done with you just yet." Touma responded as he gently lowered his soul mate back down towards him.

Misaki giggled as she pecked her husband on the lips. "Is that so? I supoooose it has been a long, tiring week, and as always, I want you. We will have to be sneaky about it, but, I am sure that I can take care of your needs." Misaki purred.

"Like that time you sneaked me into Tokiwadai? You've always been so bad." Touma jabbed. Misaki began to quietly giggle, which turned into beautiful, almost musical laughter that pleased Touma's ears. A blush appeared on her cheeks, and she took her husband's hands in her own. "That was a… I do not think that I even have the words to describe it. Perhaps "incredible" would suffice? Yes, I think that works well enough. That was an incredible evening, Touma." Misaki said, just before a content sigh fled from her lips.

"Can't really sneak into Tokiwadai again, can we? But we can sneak past Index and Othi-chan. Sort of the same thing, isn't it? Only difference is, unlike that crazy dorm supervisor, I can see Index just laughing, and Othi-chan making a disgusted remark. Kinda takes the risk out of it," Touma spoke, chuckling as he did so. Misaki laughed along with him as she visualized an amused Index and a disapproving Othinus.

"So? Whaddya say? I'm feeling way better than I did when I got home earlier, and I want to make it up to you now. It's not that late – dinner can wait another… two or three hours?" Touma asked as he ran his fingers through his wife's long, honey-scented blonde locks.

"Two or three hours?" Misaki responded, feigning bewilderment. "Just how much maintenance do you require, my prince?"

"A fair bit, you beautiful, beautiful woman. God, you're beautiful. Just let me, let me look at you for a few seconds, here. Wow. I'unno, I… wow, you're so beautiful." As Touma looked up at his wife, a warm, and welcome feeling overtook him. He continued to play with her hair, but Touma's mind wandered aimlessly. "How was I… I'd go as far as to say 'blessed' to have this woman as my wife? To have this woman support me since we were teenagers? She stood by my side during conflicts that she didn't even have to involve herself in, she just… did. This gorgeous, kind-hearted, intelligent woman decided to share her life with… with me. Who am I? I'm just Kamijou Touma. She loves me, and, God, I love her too."

Touma raised his left hand to Misaki's face, and caressed one of her blushing cheeks. "Actually, maybe we could just stay like this?" Touma inquired.

Misaki snuggled closer to Touma's body, and rested her head on his chest. Her husband's hands remained in her own, their fingers interlocked. Misaki felt Touma's heartbeat; it brought a great wave of relaxation that washed over her. When Kamijou Misaki had Kamijou Touma all to herself, she could let go of the physical world, and enter her paradise – a realm in which no darkness, nor fear, nor anger could tread.

"I would love for us to stay like this. This is just as good as making love. If we could spend the rest of our life together like this, in one another's arms, speaking, and laughing… being two people who have found comfort in one another, I would love nothing more." Misaki said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her eyes had closed, and her breathing had slowed.

"Misaki? Have I told you that I love you today? Just in case I didn't; I love you."

Butterflies fluttered every which way in the young woman's stomach as Misaki's content, peaceful smile widened. "Kamijou Touma, you do not need to tell me that you love me. You show me how much you love me, just by being yourself when you are with me. You are so kind and fair; you are such a prince. You have a heart of gold that beats in your chest. Kamijou Touma, you are the great husband a woman could ever ask for. You are a dream come true."

"Many times, but I never want you to stop telling me that you do. When you tell me that you love me, and when you say such nice things to me, and do such lovely things for me… Touma, I only fall deeper and deeper in love with you. I love you too, Kamijou Touma. I adore you. I worship your existence, my prince."

As the soul mates had predicted earlier in their exchange, Index, who had Othinus perched on the top of her head, had heard the last few minutes of their conversation; the nun had originally emerged from her cave to seek food, but she found herself unable to even think about interrupting her guardians. Their display had nearly brought Index to tears; not because she was jealous, or disheartened, but because she was overcome with happiness. Othinus, on the other hand, was less impressed.

"Crude, savage mortals…" the former Magic God complained. She placed one tiny leg elegantly over the other, and crossed her arms with a "humph".

"Oh, hush." Index chastised. "We'll give them a few more minutes. I have a bag of chips somewhere in my room; that's pretty much a banquet for you!" The nun offered as she quietly stepped back into her private abode, softly closing the door behind her. Othinus groaned, but didn't object.

October 8th, 2014. 6:45 PM.

Yamashita Junichi and Misaka Worst, after hours of searching, had found suitable targets – a group of wandering Ojou-Samas, who wore the uniform of Tokiwadai Middle School. Though PRANK's core – and only members kept their distance, the trio of unfortunate Ojou-Samas had been thoroughly analyzed, at least on a physical level. The first was rather tall, and particularly skinny – Junichi momentarily wondered if the girl had starved herself to achieve her looks. She had fluffy, golden hair that fell to her shoulders, and a pair of knee-high black socks. The second was shorter, and looked to have more meat on her bones. She had long, luscious brown hair, and a white and lime green purse slung over her shoulder. The third was taller than the first, had jet black hair that was tied into a ponytail, and wore white legwarmers.

"How will Misaka and her minion go about this? Maybe Misaka will destroy their phones with her ability!" Worst cackled, as electricity crackled around her body. "Or… we could get started with a bang, once we get away from all these people." Junichi suggested, motioning to the herds of people that walked by, behind, and adjacent to them.

"When we first set out on this quest, I thought someone might concern themselves a little bit too much about our appearances. The "uniforms" you picked out are far from inconspicuous, but, so far, so good." The pyrokinesist stated.

"Misaka knows what she's doing, minion." Worst said, an air of confidence in her voice. She crossed her arms beneath her bosom, with her head held high in a dignified manner. "Maybe we'll just get all of these people. Misaka thinks you have enough coffee to pull it off."

Junichi shook his head in disagreement. "Nah, too much heat. Trust me on this; doesn't matter who we get, or how we get them. What matters is getting them in a secluded place. Yeah, it'd be really funny to soak these trust fund princesses, but, there's a good chance they won't stray far from the crowd."

"Misaka's at least going to fuck with them a little bit, then," Worst proclaimed. The sick-minded clone of Misaka Mikoto extended her hand, and electricity jumped from her body as she used her ability to mess with the guts of the smartphone belonging to the blonde-haired Tokiwadai student.

"Ah! My phone… turned off?!" Worst and Junichi heard the blonde angrily exclaim. They saw the heads of the blonde student's friends look to her. The blonde student handed the device off to her brown-haired companion as she threw her arms into the air in frustration. Worst snickered as she wrung her hands, and Junichi produced a singular approving chuckle. "Misaka's not satisfied yet, minion. Let's go all-out. Misaka can get us out quick, don't forget," Worst said, prodding her subordinate.

"Let's give it a minute, see what they do."

For some time, Yamashita Junichi and Misaka Worst continue to trail their targets. The Ojou-Samas continued to walk in a straight line, never turning, never breaking step for even so much as a moment. Worst contemplated zapping them to the point of unconsciousness, so frustrated had she become, but she held back – PRANK would have their time to shine.

Eventually, fate pitied PRANK, and the Ojou-Samas finally made a right turn at a set of lights. Though they didn't turn down a deserted alleyway, or into a sparsely populated store or café, as PRANK turned the corner with them, they realized their fortune – the side street they found themselves on wasn't nearly as populated as the main street they had been previously walking down.

Junichi removed his backpack, and began to fiddle with the zipper. Worst acted as his eyes while he focused on producing his Mega Soaker 6800. Junichi looked from right to left, just as his fingers fell upon the butt of the weapon of mass destruction. He dug deeper, and gripped the trigger with his index finger. Again, he examined his surroundings. "People are going to see, but that's just the way it's going to have to be. I guess, in a way, it's a positive thing; the more people who know about PRANK, the better! Y'know, we're both way too old for this…"

Junichi produced the weapon, gripped it with both hands, and aimed at the trio of Ojou-Samas who were now only ten or so feet away from them. Without hesitation, and with one or two second thoughts, the pyrokinesist's index finger squeezed the trigger.

"That guy's got a gun! RUN! Somebody stop him, call Anti Skill, call Judgment!" A disembodied voice proclaimed from the other side of the street; Junichi paid it no mind. It only served to further his plans – he and Worst's victims turned around, likely in an attempt to pinpoint the source of the proclamation, and were hit head-on.

From the barrel of the weapon, a stream of sticky, dark liquid was forcefully sprayed at incredible speeds. It arced through the air and, as Junichi and Worst looked on wide-eyed, the stream hit its first target without issue. The shocked and thoroughly displeased blonde Ojou-Sama shrieked in terror. Not one to miss an opportunity, the laughing pyrokinesist waved the weapon wildly, soaking the blonde's companions, who joined their fellow victim to form a chorus of angered, disgusted complaints.

Confused bystanders watched on, some producing their phones, presumably to record the incident or perhaps to contact Anti Skill or Judgment. A group of young men, clad in what looked like lower class high school uniforms – white, collared shirts and dark pants began to rush towards PRANK. Their heroic siege soon came to a grinding halt, however. Worst stomped the ground with her foot, and produced a torrent of crackling blue lightning that circled around her form. "Don't be heroes; Misaka has seen what happens to heroes," Worst cryptically warned.

"W-whoa there, l-lady… we're all low levels! I'm a level zero, and these guys are only level ones! P-please don't h-hurt anyone?" One of the young men pleaded. The uneasiness in his voice made Worst shiver with pleasure. "Misaka and her goon aren't hurting anyone. It's just a PRANK!" Worst said, emphasizing the last word in her proclamation. The young men, hesitantly at first, backed away, and then proceeded to run in the opposite direction, their heads hung in shame.

"Ugh! What the actual FUCK?!" The blonde exclaimed; she sounded livid, and rightfully so. Her Tokiwadai uniform had been completely ruined, stained with the dark substance fired from the older man's water gun. "Seriously! What were you even thinking?!" The blonde's brown-haired companion furiously chastised.

"You just got PRANKed!" Junichi exclaimed, continuing to spray the Mega Soaker 6800's payload at the girls, two of whom ran in all directions, shrieking like banshees, arms flailing as they attempted to escape. The blonde stood defiant, her arms crossed, even as she was continually sprayed with coffee. Her brow had furrowed, and her lips had curled into a scowl.

"Do you have any idea how much this uniform is worth?!" The blonde screeched, panting, as her eyes became bloodshot.

"I don't, sweetheart! How much did your parents pay for it?" Junichi rhetorically asked, sarcasm evident in his tone of voice. Worst cackled loudly behind him; she gripped her right hip, clearly in pain to some extent or another. Tears rolled down the malevolent clone's face.

Wordlessly, the girl gripped her phone, which appeared to be in working condition, and fired it at the duo; it became a blur as it was ejected from her grip. "Aero Hand! Worst, dip! She's going to…"

Junichi found himself instinctively moving aside, and, Worst, still laughing hysterically, was hit square in the forehead with the large, white device. It bounced against her skull with an audible thud. Worst rubbed her head, but continued to cackle. "You thought that would actually hurt Misaka?! Ha! You're more pathetic than you look, little girl!" Worst exclaimed, finger pointed mockingly at the blonde. Worst's act of arrogance only served to enrage the girl even further. The blonde's friends had taken to her side, and seemed to be trying to persuade her to leave with them.

"Come on, Fujiwara-san… they're not worth your time or frustration." The black-haired girl comfortingly said, her hands on her blonde friend's shoulder.

"You're always so passive, Ikina-san! It's so annoying! You've got to stand up for yourself, sometimes!" The brown-haired girl shot back, glaring at Ikina. "Fujiwara-san and I are going to show these losers what it means to dangle with Tokiwadai girls. No more running from bullies."

"Makioka-san's right, Ikina-san. Go if you want to; we're settling this, here and now." Fujiwara growled.

As if on command, Ikina turned tail and fled, leaving Fujiwara and Makioka to face the forces of PRANK. The last of the coffee in Junichi's Mega Soaker 6800 had been expunged; the pyrokinesist continued to move about, struggling to refuel his weapon as he did so.

"I don't see anything else in that backpack; just that weird gun, and another can of coffee. We can handle this," Makioka commented to her ally. Fujiwara gave a nod of affirmation, and ran towards a nearby bench. Her original intentions were to touch the outdoor decoration, use her ability to eject it towards the male prankster, and then deal with the woman, but, said woman had obviously thought ahead. "You thought Misaka would let you get near this? You thought wrong. Misaka's way ahead of you."

Fujiwara raised an eyebrow, and placed her hands on her hips. "You talk weird. Are you one of those Sisters?" She pried. Worst chuckled, and crossed her arms beneath her bosom, and tossed her chestnut brown bangs to one side. "Misaka is related, yes, but Misaka was created for a different purpose; nothing you need to know about. Misaka takes it that you aren't fond of her PRANK?"

"Not one bit," Fujiwara said angrily, drawing each out word through clenched teeth. The Aero Hand user's legs were nearly shaking. "I've had a bad enough of a day as it is, and now this happens?! You don't just… do something like this to someone!" She exclaimed.

"Misaka enjoys your suffering, but she doesn't want to fight with you and stir up trouble – or maybe Misaka does. If she stirs up enough trouble, Misaka might just get a spanking! Misaka suggests that you back off, or Misaka's going to have to get nasty with you."

Perhaps, if Worst had tried to settle their disagreement in any other way, things may have just turned out differently. But Misaka Worst was Misaka Worst, and so she didn't. Fujiwara charged, ready to knock her new opponent out of the way, if need be, so that she could have her chance at a reprisal. To her surprise, the strangely speaking clone before her casually stepped aside. "Fine, you can pelt Misaka's minion. It'll be funny; but don't try that shit with Misaka."

Junichi anxiously poured the last of his second can of coffee into the Mega Soaker 6800, and made sure to put the empty can in his backpack, as not to give the Aero Hand user ammunition. He aimed his weapon, looking down the sight as his once-victim, now a foe, circled him.

"You and your friend, Fuji… something or other, are made of sturdy stuff. Surprising, for Tokiwadai trust fund babies," Junichi taunted; the pyrokinesist had learned a thing or two from Worst, over the years. "Clairvoyant, I assume?"

"Correct," Makioka responded. "You're clearly not a criminal, so why are you doing this? Just for the joy of messing with people? You're, like, ten years older than us. Don't you have anything better to do? At all?"

"Nope. Not at the moment," Junichi retorted, before he pressed down on the trigger of his weapon; a stream of black coffee was fired from the Mega Soaker 6800's barrel, and Makioka was either not athletic enough, or too preoccupied with developing a battle strategy or some other nonsense to try and duck or dodge – the blast hit her square in the face. Makioka reeled back, spitting and coughing, hands swatting madly in the air. Hordes of interested onlookers, who had likely been attracted from the main street, had gathered around the spectacle. "I could turn my weapon on them, too, and then PRANK would really get noticed, but if someone calls Anti Skill or Judgment, Worst and I would be in even deeper shit. Oh well; it's not like we're hurting people, just messing with them."

The pyrokinesist turned his attention to the crowd behind him, and they immediately attempted to disperse; it was an ineffective tactic. There were too many people crammed into a single area, and as chaos began to ensue, students became much easier targets to pick off. Junichi hit the front row with a stream of black coffee, turned his attention back to Makioka for a moment, and then back to the crowd once more. Caught up in the glory of the moment, Junichi never saw the bench turned aerial projectile headed straight for him.

There was a loud crash, and a grunt of pain from Yamashita Junichi, who now found himself beneath a surprisingly light metallic bench. His Mega Soaker 6800 has fallen from his grasp, and laid far out of his reach. The crowd, who he had been tormenting not moments ago became his tormentors, as did his turncoat of a partner, Worst, who all laughed heartily at his ill fortune.

"Have anything to say for yourself?" Fujiwara inquired. She approached the fallen pyrokinesist, stopped once she was mere inches away from him, and loomed over him triumphantly. She was soon joined by Makioka, who too glared down at Junichi.

"I regret nothing. PRANK lives on," Junichi grumbled as he pushed the bench away from him. "Did you get past my evil sidekick, or did you somehow convince her to betray me?" The pyrokinesist inquired. "Misaka laughs at your predicament. HA! Misaka conspired against you," Worst responded with a malevolent giggle.

"I should shoot you off into the distance for what you've done." Fujiwara commented. "But I'm instead going to give you a chance to learn your lesson."

"Yeah, whatever you say, sensei." Junichi snapped as he rose up from the ground with a groan. Though the bench that had been hurled at him hadn't weighed all that much, it had done enough damage; the speed it travelled upon being ejected by Fujiwara's Aero Hand had ensured that it packed a considerable punch, and the pyrokinesist was already feeling the effects.

Fujiwara turned her back to her fallen foe, and motioned for her friend to follow. Makioka gave the pyrokinesist one last glare before she obediently followed.

The pyrokinesist turned his attention to the ever-growing crowd. "Show's over, guys. You can all go home, now!" Junichi exclaimed, having gotten to his feet. Worst took to Junichi's side, and slung his arm over her shoulder. "Misaka has two cripples to take care of, now. Joy!" The clone said sarcastically.

"Show's over"? You sprayed us too, asshole!" a gruff, male voice from the crowd shouted angrily. Junichi couldn't pinpoint which individual it was, there were so many of them that singling someone out would be a grand feat, but Junichi could tell that it wasn't someone in the front row.

"Yeah! Fuck you, pal!" Another voice, this time belonging to either a female or a male with a very high pitched voice added. The crowd was beginning to grow angry, and both Junichi and Worst could hear frustrated, disapproving murmuring coming from within the sea of onlookers, though only one of the two found themselves concerned by it.

"Misaka's got this. Don't fret, useless minion! Hold your breath!" Worst exclaimed. She gripped the pyrokinesist's hand tightly, ensuring that it would cause him discomfort, at the least, and, using one of many weapons in the arsenal of her unique variation of the Radio Noise ability, Worst proceeded to detonate the oxygen around their bodies; the sheer force of the detonation propelled her, and by extension, her suddenly nauseous minion well over the slowly destabilizing crowd. They looked on in awe as she repeated this technique again and again, ensuring that she and her flailing subordinate would remain in the air for some time. The legacy of PRANK began then and there.


	3. Saviors

October 8th, 2014. 7:15 PM.

The sun's vigil had come to an end. It was time for the great flame in the sky to bring its light to the other side of the world; the sun's lunar counterpart, earth's stalwart nighttime protector, its moon, came to fill the void. The darkening sky brought with it a beautiful sunset that many in Academy City looked up at, some alone, some with their families, or their lovers.

In stark contrast, a piercing, shrill cry of desperation broke the relative silence of the evening.

"Help me, rhinoceros beetle!"

In school district six, an ordinary high school girl fled on foot. She was clad in the light gray, almost silver uniform of Nagatenjouki Academy, though she silently bemoaned the fact that she hadn't changed into anything else while she had been at home; it was far from comfortable. Her short, dark brown hair bounced as her feet slapped against the sidewalk – the same sidewalk she had been running down for nearly fifteen agonizing minutes.

Koyanagi Reiko had spent the duration of her young life proving to the world that she would never be a damsel in distress. In middle school, she had violently slapped away any fool of a boy who dared to approach her. As a high schooler, little had changed. No bully dared to target her. Her reputation as an "Iron Wall Girl" alone was enough to stave off the would-be tormentors of Nagatenjouki Academy.

Yet, here she was, calling out for help. The individual who hunted Koyanagi Reiko was no schoolyard tormentor, nor were they a mere bully. The foe Reiko faced was a threat to her very life. The person who stalked Reiko was more akin to a monster; she was a terribly tall girl, who glared at the intimidated Koyanagi Reiko as if she were little more than an insect that needed to be crushed. Long, fluffy black hair fell to her back, the ends of which were dyed blonde. Reiko's foe wore a pair of tight-fitting, high waisted lavender leggings, which highlighted her body's impressive curves, a tight, fashionable lavender top which exposed her navel, a fashionable cropped denim jacket, and a pair of light blue boots which matched the color of her jacket.

This individual was known only as Move Control, the third ranked level four esper, and the strongest Equal Speed user in Academy City.

Move Control wasn't someone who relied solely on her ability; she swiftly caught up her prey, and, with a great thrust, slammed her fist square into Reiko's back. The air was forced from Reiko's lungs, her eyed widened, and she lost control over her body as the crippling pain and shock from the blow overtook her. Koyanagi Reiko tripped over her own feet and unceremoniously tumbled to the ground.

"So, this is all you've got? This is all of the force that you can possibly muster? My "boyfriend" is an incompetent fool, and he likely deserved it, and now I'm never going to hear the end of it; though you've provided me with yet another source of irritation in my life, trying to strike me is a much greater offense; an offense punishable by death. There's no going back, trash, and I won't forgive you!" Move Control roared.

"Move Control… I didn't know! I just thought he was some lame boy who was trying to hit on me! I did…" Reiko struggled to stammer. The words were becoming caught between her lips as they attempted to pass from her mouth.

"Hit on you? On YOU?!" Move Control tossed her head back and laughed hysterically, her eyes widening. Slowly, she began to laugh louder and louder, her fingers twitching as she did so. Then, as suddenly as it began, Move Control's laughter ceased, and she began to approach Koyanagi Reiko. Reiko squirmed, struggling to push herself away; she wanted to get back onto her feet and continue running, but her mind, paralyzed by fear, prevented her body from functioning properly.

In one quick motion, Move Control's neck jerked forwards, and her wide, psychotic eyes locked with Reiko's. "Don't big yourself up, trash! You'd be lucky if a guy fucked you and chucked you. Look at you; you don't have tits; your legs are a two out of ten at BEST, and… where's your ass? You don't have an ass! Guys like big asses! Not whatever undeveloped shit you've got going on!" Move Control shrieked.

Before Reiko had the chance to attempt to defend herself against Move Control's verbal onslaught, the third ranked level four esper reached into one of the pockets of her leggings. She dug her hand around inside of the pocket, and, seconds later, it emerged, clenched.

"Guess what I have in my hand, "Iron Wall Girl!" Move Control shouted. By this point, Move Control's behavior had attracted the attention of the older citizens of Academy City who were passing them by; they were allowed to walk the streets as they pleased, regardless of the time of day. Move Control didn't mind. In fact, she enjoyed their wide-eyed stares. She enjoyed the attention, and the exhilaration it brought.

"H… Help me, rhinoceros beetle!" Again, the girl who swore she'd never be a damsel in distress had become exactly that, and she hated herself for it.

Koyanagi Reiko rose up, her scraped legs shaking. She was putting her faith in what was little more than an urban legend, a fairy tail that had arisen when Academy City had been a much darker place. To Reiko, the worst part was, she knew it.

"You really believe that nonsense?" Move Control inquired, the contempt all too clear in her tone of voice. "You really are an idiot. You think the second ranked level five gives a shit about you? No. Nobody does, and, in the end, I'm doing you a favor, trash! Since you're evidently too mentally retarded to answer a simple question, I'll give you the answer!" Move Control opened her hand, and in it laid a small pile of sharpened plastic 'bullets'.

"Come one, come all! Gather 'round, bring your families, bring your friends! On this day, you'll get to see a magic trick. I'm going to make this trash disappear!" Move Control exclaimed. Neither knew it, but on wings of an unknown matter that didn't truly exist, a savior was near.

With her ability, Move Control tossed the dozen or so 'bullets' that had been in her palm into the air; they were sent flying outwards in a single cluster. There was no rhyme or reason to Move Control's attack; rather, the cluster was lazily hurled in the general director of her target.

Instincts took control, and Koyanagi Reiko feverishly stumbled aside, buckled flats dragging and scraping against the sidewalk. Reiko's legs felt like jelly, and she thought her heart might stop beating in her chest. Reiko was consumed by the cold sweat of dread as reality dawned on her; she just barely avoided being torn apart.

Move Control immediately released her gruesome ammunition; the plastic 'bullets' fell from the air and hit the ground, scattering every which way. Move Control ran, giggling as she descended deeper into her own psychotic detachment from reality, towards the mess, scooped a small handful up, and resumed her onslaught. It was a foolish move, perhaps, but Move Control sought to toy with her enemy. Move Control tossed a single 'bullet' into the air, and her ability went to work. The 'bullet' hastily began to move… but the third ranked level four esper's target wasn't where she had been moments before Move Control had turned away.

Instead, Koyanagi Reiko had closed the distance between herself and Move Control. She had come from the side; Reiko's hand closed, curling into a fist, as it neared the side of the face of Academy City's third strongest level four.

Move Control stepped aside, laughing like a deranged mad-woman, extended her leg, which the raging Koyanagi Reiko charged headlong into, too deep in her own anger to notice before it was all but too late. With a thud and a shriek of pain, once again, Reiko found herself on the ground. She groaned, and tried to push herself up.

"If I'm going to die… I want to die standing up. I don't want to die a damsel. I want to spit in Move Control's face before she destroys me."

Reiko's inner thoughts were suddenly silenced. Many things happened in a short span of time. First, there was the sound of wings beating against the air, followed by the sound of a soft thud. Move Control's shocked, sharp gasp, a sound that was beyond satisfying for Koyanagi Reiko to hear, soon followed.

"Enough." The strangely soothing voice said, quite empathetically; it calmed Reiko's shattered nerves almost instantly. The shift was deeply surprising, and even unnerving for the ordinary high school girl.

Koyanagi Reiko, despite the pain that came from doing so, rolled onto her back. At the sight of him, Reiko's heartrate rapidly increased, and she felt a mixed bag of different emotions forming inside of her. He was completely white; his skin, his shoulder-length hair, his clothing, all were as white as a blank sheet of unlined paper, with the exception of his eyes, whose irises were bright green. As Reiko looked into them, she felt safe. She felt like everything was going to be okay. The clothing upon his form consisted of a smooth, wrinkleless collared dress shirt, which was partly buttoned up, equally wrinkleless tight-fitting dress pants, and a pair of pointed dress shoes. He was tall, imposingly so, and just muscular enough to be attractive, in a way that Reiko found strange.

Move Control was stumbling backwards, shaking her head slowly and methodically, her eyes wide. Soon enough, however, she regained control. The third ranked level four handed the reigns to another emotion; anger.

"Hah… y-you're… the number two… the second strongest esper in all Academy City… K-Kakine… Teitoku… y-you would come to this trash's defense?! You'd protect this garbage?! You'd stand in my way? I bet…" Move Control began to giggle. Teitoku, the second ranked level five, merely looked at her with concern in his eyes.

"I bet you're scared. I'm on my way to becoming the ninth ranked level five! You're terrified that I'll climb the ranks! As I slaughter the rest of the trash, you're scared that you'll end up on my hit list, sooner or later!" Move Control shrieked, concluding her unhinged rant with a feral scream that caused Reiko to cover her ears. Kakine Teitoku looked on, unfazed. His six wings of Dark Matter silently retracted, and eventually disappeared into his back.

Move Control tossed a 'bullet' into the air, and with a shriek that sent any and all onlookers fleeing from her, which only upped her emotional high, the projectile was forcibly hurled forward by her ability. It surged forward on a crash course with the throat of Kakine Teitoku, who shifted in place.

"Maybe I'll just become the number two now, and skip the other trash! They're not worthy of being killed by me!" Move Control screamed.

The plastic 'bullet' spun as it travelled, and, in the blink of an eye, the projectile pierced the windpipe of Kakine Teitoku, carved through his neck and spine like a hot knife through butter, and exited on the other side.

For Move Control, there was one problem. Kakine Teitoku didn't die; he didn't falter, nor did he so much as gasp. He didn't even seem concerned with the fact that a gaping hole was present where his throat should've been. Move Control snarled like a rabid animal as Teitoku's body performed a swift regenerative procedure, closing the wound in seconds. Move Control was far from done; she forced the project to retrace its steps. It swiftly pierced the back of Teitoku's neck, and emerged from his throat. The third strongest level four in Academy City shrieked in frustration as Teitoku didn't so much as even wince as the wounds closed.

"Why are you doing this? What pushes you to act this way? Are you a remnant from days long passed? Was it you who called for me, in a moment of clarity?" Teitoku asked, sincerity in his tone of voice. The Dark Matter user looked to Koyanagi Reiko and raised an eyebrow. "Or was it you? Did you call for the rhinoceros beetle?"

"It was me… I did… I called for you, but I d-didn't expect you to actually answer…" Reiko spoke up.

"Shut up, trash! You have no right to even talk, your voice makes me sick! I'll kill you!" Move Control furiously exclaimed, body vibrating violently. Her legs shook the worst, as if they were about to collapse beneath the weight of her body. Move Control, suddenly poised to fire a 'bullet' at Reiko, had her ammunition knocked away; two long, lashing ribbons, made up of a nonexistent matter formed from Kakine Teitoku's arms, and batted Move Control's shaking hands.

Move Control violently snapped. The weak grip on what remained of her sanity was loosened, and her higher mind reeled. "Did you just fucking touch me?! Who do you think you are?! Who do you think I AM?! I don't care how strong you are! I'll rip you apart until nothing's left! You won't be able to regenerate from tiny little shreds, will you?! WILL YOU?!"

Kakine Teitoku looked to Koyanagi Reiko again, and the ordinary high school girl felt her heart beat faster than usual. "Go, you're safe now. I won't allow any harm to come to you or this girl. I'll save you both. I have to save you both."

Reiko fled as quickly as she could, screaming inside of her own head. Screaming how she hated herself, and how weak she was. Reiko screamed at herself for being a damsel, for having to be saved by a hero, for being dependant on everything and everyone around her. Reiko's feet slapped against the ground as warm, wet tears dripped down her face.

The third strongest level four esper had scavenged what she could with her shaking hands, and hurled a trio of 'bullets' at Kakine Teitoku. They tore through him, again and again, forced by Move Control's ability to slice back and forth as they carved through his white body. His sympathetic facial expression made Move Control even more furious.

"Even if you didn't call out for help, I'm going to save you; I'm going to end this tragedy before it begins." Kakine Teitoku said softly.

"Save me? You're welcome to try, but you won't brainwash me. You'll never change me! You'll never take away my chance at total domination! I've come this far, I've damned everyone I've ever loved, I've used and manipulated, I've crushed hearts, I've destroyed lives… and I love it!" Move Control shouted, increasing the speed of her bullets as they continued to rend Kakine Teitoku's body.

The loud, blaring sirens of Anti Skill's armored vehicles could be heard in the distance; it worried Kakine Teitoku more than anything. Six white wings of Dark Matter emerged from Teitoku's back. Each wing slapped the air, and before long, he took to the skies. Move Control's projectiles seemed to be incapable of homing in on him, though Move Control could adjust their trajectory without issue.

"I can't harm her, even if refusing to do so puts others in danger. Harming people is what "he" did. I will save them all."

"Don't run from me, you coward! I bet the Accelerator wouldn't run from me! It's really no wonder that you're only a second rate!" Move Control taunted.

Kakine Teitoku sighed. "I knew you reminded me of someone; I couldn't put a finger on who it was. Can you be saved, too? Can you walk the path of redemption? I wonder."

The sounds of the sirens were growing ever closer; from on high, Teitoku could see the flashing blue lights bathe school district six's streets in a strobing glow. Kakine Teitoku had to act, and fast. In his hands, a weapon formed of nonexistent matter materialized. Its shaft was long and straight, and its head was dull and round. Teitoku beat his wings, and dove towards Move Control.

Her projectiles tore through four of his six wings, though they reformed almost immediately. Teitoku thrust the weapon at her as gently as he could; Move Control leapt to one side and avoided the blow. Teitoku landed, wings of Dark Matter retreating into his back, and charged Move Control. The third ranked level four's ammunition returned, flying backwards towards Teitoku. He allowed them to rend his body; at least, that way, his foe's attention would more than likely remain entirely on him.

Move Control pulled her projectiles back to her, and let them fall into her open palm. "I might just be able to make use of these later. For now, if it's a one on one fight you want, I'll be happy to oblige!" She exclaimed. Move Control rushed to meet Teitoku; that took the number two ranked level five esper by surprise. As she closed the distance between herself and Teitoku, Move Control curled her hand into a fist. Teitoku thrust his weapon forwards; Move Control sidestepped it, and delivered a vicious right hook to Teitoku's face. Move Control laughed hysterically, followed the blow up with a left hook, another right, and was about to strike him with another left, when everything stopped.

There was a strange, invisible explosion. Move Control couldn't see it, nor could Teitoku, but he knew where it originated from, and he knew how far it would reach; his ability worked in strange ways, and he had absolute control over those ways. He knew its dimensions, and even if he couldn't visually see it, he could visualize it within his mind's eye. The strange explosion didn't harm Move Control; upon being struck, Move Control's wide, bloodshot eyes seemed to shrink back to their normal proportions. Her eyelids fluttered, and as Move Control stumbled, Kakine Teitoku wrapped her in two ribbons formed of a nonexistent matter; they pulled her barely-conscious form towards him, and in his arms Teitoku held her close.

"It's okay, now. You're safe. Be still, be silent, and sleep. Let yourself relax, and sleep. You'll awaken, body and mind unharmed. I hope this City finds for you the help you so desperately need."

Move Control's eyelids shut, and her lips, twisted into a scowl, began to relax into a neutral expression. Her furrowed brow relaxed as well.

As she fell into unconsciousness, Teitoku smiled warmly at Move Control. "All sorts of scary rumors spread through this city, but if you run across one of the scary people spoken of in those rumors, you just need to shout out as loudly as you can. Shout out, ''Help me, rhinoceros beetle!" If you do that, you will be all right. Academy City's number two level five, who uses Dark Matter will come. Someone named Kakine Teitoku will surely come to save you."

Anti Skill's armada of armored vehicles arrived; five enormous dark blue trucks, painted with seven thin white stripes across the center of each. As Anti Skill personnel, armed and ready for a heated battle emerged from the rear doors of each truck, Kakine Teitoku took his leave. He took the skies, and waited for the moment that another might call for him.

October 8th, 2014. 9:30 PM.

Last Order's loud, obnoxious music blared from her upstairs room; though it didn't shake the apartment, nor could their neighbors hear it, due to the soundproof materials used in the construction of most modern apartment complexes in Academy City, it was enough to drive Accelerator up the wall. "It's not even good music; the brats have shit taste! This is fucking garbage…" Accelerator grumbled aloud. The number one ranked esper in Academy City, luckily for all involved, hadn't been trying to sleep. Rather, he was trying to entertain himself with a dose of idiotic evening television. Two stupid-looking talk show hosts bantered back and forth about the latest rumors, publicity stunts, and celebrity muck-ups.

"What do you think about the rumor that Sogiita Gunha, the seventh strongest esper in all of our beautiful Academy City had his ASS handed to him by a lowly level zero, Four Dog? Give me your thoughts! Could this be the start of a feud? Are we looking at a civil war between one of the strongest and the weakest?!"

The host's words, at least his last words before passed the discussion to his cohost, had a surprising impact on Accelerator.

"Grit your teeth well, 'strongest' one! My 'weakest' attack might just shake you up a little!"

If those words had been uttered at any other time, by anyone else, Accelerator would've laughed. He would've laughed as the fool threw themselves against him, only to have their body broken; but Accelerator hadn't laughed on that night, not when the fist of a certain 'lowly level zero' connected with his face and changed everything.

"Sogiita Gunha? He's unlikely to hold a grudge – he's always seemed like the most agreeable of all the level fives, Don. I'm more impressed with the level zero mentioned in the rumor, if they exist! You know how easily misinformation can spread," Four Dog responded. The crowd that sat behind the camera which filmed the two hosts seemed to agree; they chuckled, and some clapped. Others hooted and hollered, perhaps attempting to be noticed or called out.

Before the hosts of the show could continue their exchange, Accelerator began skimming through channels. For some reason, he didn't feel like watching that program anymore. Accelerator flicked his choker, rose up, moved to the coffee table in front of him, and retrieved a can of black coffee. He pried it open, tilted his head back, and began to drink heartily. As the refreshing fluid splashed against his palette, Accelerator heard the door to he and his family's home open, and then shut. A giggling, grinning Misaka Worst, and a tired-looking Yamashita Junichi stepped into the television room.

"Brat number two, you're fucking late as usual." Accelerator chastised.

"Misaka called; Misaka can stay out as late as she wants, as long as she lets her worrywart of a tou-san know, remember? Silly tou-san's mind is going. Misaka's a woman, now; tou-san can't hold her back!" Worst exclaimed as she continued to giggle to herself.

"Whatever," Accelerator grumbled. He set his beverage down on the coffee table, leaned back on the couch, and flicked his choker off.

"Hey, Accelerator-san." Junichi said; despite the way he looked, Junichi seemed to be amused.

"What the fuck did the brat do to you? You look like shit." Accelerator commented. He looked Junichi up and down; something seemed off about him. His posture wasn't giving anything away, and his facial expressions betrayed only his fatigue and amusement; yet Accelerator could feel that something was different.

"Ah, nothing. It's sort of my fault, anyways… long story. I'm sure you've got better things to do than listen to me babble," the pyrokinesist responded.

"You're right about that, I have a million better things that I could be doing, but, as of this moment, I'm not doing a fucking thing; I have time." Accelerator stated.

"Worst just started shit at the cages. Zapped one of the machines, made it go haywire and shoot balls all over the place. Everyone had helmets, so nobody was seriously hurt, but one guy got pelted right in the family jewels. That scream…" Junichi lied.

"Misaka's going to go upstairs and change; tou-san, you're welcome to join Misaka, if you want," Worst announced, before she headed off, climbed the first few steps that lead to the second floor, and disappeared from sight.

Accelerator stared at the pyrokinesist for a few moments, crimson eyes sizing him up before he gave a nod of approval. Before he allowed himself to become lost in a new television program, Accelerator called out to Junichi.

"Wait until the brat gives you the "okay" if you plan on going up to her room. I hear about one "accidental pervert moment", and it'll be your fucking last. Do we understand one another?" Accelerator snarled. A chill went down Junichi's spine, but he didn't allow himself to show it.

"Of course; you don't just violate someone's personal space like that, regardless of their gender," The pyrokinesist replied. Accelerator seemed to approve, and he grunted to show it. Junichi offered Academy City's "top dog" a small wave to announce his departure.

Accelerator frowned. He was beginning to understand what the strange aura radiating from Yamashita Junichi was all about; he had felt similar auras before, produced by individuals who always had something to hide. "I don't know what those fucking brats are keeping from me. I'll make it a point to find out."

Having climbed the stairs to the second floor of Accelerator's home, Yamashita Junichi rapped on the door to Misaka Worst's room. "Hey, Worst, you in there?" The pyrokinesist inquired. No answer immediately came, and the pyrokinesist groaned. He immediately figured that he had more than likely found himself on the receiving end of Worst's "pranks" yet again.

Junichi gently hit his knuckles against the door a second time. "Worst, come on. If you're just gonna fuck with me, I'll go hit the bars or something."

"Misaka's door is unlocked; come in and see what Misaka has waiting for you for yourself!" Worst's reply came. It was a taunt, a temptation. A thousand different scenarios and ideas of what ill fate Worst had planned rushed through Junichi's mind, and the threat of being turned into mush by a furious Accelerator was all too real for him.

The thumping of the music that came from Last Order's room ceased, and, moments later, the door to her room opened. The (technically) elder sister of Misaka Worst offered Yamashita Junichi a warm smile. "Hello, Yamashita-san, MISAKA MISAKA says, offering a humble greeting to her sister's friend!" Last Order said.

"Hey, Last Order. What's good?" The pyrokinesist inquired, legitimately interested. He had always liked the polite, well-mannered and soft-spoken Last Order, moreover, Last Order didn't intimidate him anywhere near as much as Worst did; she was the same height as him, or close to it, unlike Worst, who stood at least a head taller.

"MISAKA's good! MISAKA was about to go and see Accelerator. MISAKA's getting kind of lonely, and the inferior unit likes to pull MISAKA's hair and poke MISAKA, so the inferior unit isn't a compatible source of companionship most times, MISAKA MISAKA says, explaining herself," Last Order responded.

"Yeah… Worst's a devil, isn't she? She wanted to hang out, and she's closed the door on me. She invited me in, but she said it in a really weird way. I really don't want to walk in and see something I shouldn't, y'know?" Junichi felt no heat rise to his face. He didn't feel awkward, nor did he keep any hidden, secret feelings to himself. He spoke with honesty, and Last Order seemed to pick up on this fact.

"Would you feel better if MISAKA goes in? MISAKA can expose the inferior unit's tomfoolery, MISAKA MISAKA says, offering Yamashita-san her assistance," Last Order offered.

"Buzz off, Control Tower! Go dry hump tou-san! Misaka has plans for her minion that don't involve you!" Worst exclaimed.

Last Order rolled her eyes and sighed. "MISAKA has a hard time putting up with the inferior unit sometimes. Sometimes, MISAKA just wants to strangle the inferior unit, MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, announcing her disapproval!"

The elder sister of Misaka Worst forced her way into her younger sister's room, and groaned.

"Yamashita-san, you're fine. The coast is clear, the inferior unit was toying with you, MISAKA MISAKA says, attempting to reassure Yamashita-san that he can enter the inferior unit's room," Last Order said as she stepped out from Worst's room. Last Order walked down the stairs, leaving Worst and Junichi to their own devices.

Yamashita Junichi, still cautious despite Last Order's reassurance, entered Worst's room. Worst herself had changed into a short-sleeved orange shirt and a pair of faded denim shorts, rolled up to her upper thighs. There wasn't a whole lot to be spoken of in Worst's room; it had the basic essentials; a large, luxurious, expensive-looking bed with a nightstand next to it, which had a lamp, multiple volumes of some perverted manga, and Worst's phone on it, a spacious looking walk-in closet, and, across from the closet, a small desk with both a desktop computer setup and a laptop sitting on it, the former of which had a wireless mouse and a wireless keyboard. In front of the desk, there was a large, expensive-looking office chair, made of thick, black leather and metal that shined beneath the ceiling light of Worst's room.

Worst's desktop setup was mostly white in coloration, with the exceptions of the mouse wheel and the letters on the keyboard's individual keys, which were black. Worst's laptop was compact, and, as it was closed, Junichi could only see the laptop's lid and bottom casing, which were black. The pyrokinesist had seen it open enough times to know that the keyboard and trackpad were red and black, with white letters on the keyboard's individual keys.

Misaka Worst stared intently at her desktop computer's flat screen monitor, lips curled into a sinister smirk. She clicked her mouse, dragged it across its mousepad, and clicked again.

"Worst? What the hell was up with you earlier?" Junichi inquired, one of his eyebrows raised quizzically.

"Misaka wanted to see if you'd have the courage to enter; Misaka wished to test your minion abilities. Misaka now finds herself doubting your skills," Worst replied. She didn't so much as move her head, or even her eyes away from her computer's screen. Curious, Junichi looked down at it; on Worst's screen was an image of the layout of school district seven's underground mall, along with a list of shops, and a legend for potential shoppers to refer to; a benign concept, but one far too easily exploitable. Perhaps, if he had been someone else, he would've wished that he hadn't. Perhaps he would've demanded to know what Worst was planning.

Instead, Junichi would press onwards, unfazed. "Don't you think the underground mall is a bit of a leap?" The pyrokinesist asked, voice hushed. "We only PRANKed three people, and I ended up getting hit with a damn bench."

"That was partly Misaka's fault; Misaka thought it would be funny, and Misaka thought correctly! Misaka has no regrets; but if Misaka and her minion are going to get serious, Misaka won't play around like that anymore," Worst stated.

Junichi leaned down next to Worst, as there was no other chair in the room for him to sit on, and looked closely at the screen before him. Worst's hand fell onto the top of the pyrokinest's head, and she stroked it, as if she were a supervillain stroking the fur of their overweight feline companion.

"Misaka has a few ideas, but we can't talk here; tou-san could be neaby, listening, because tou-san doesn't have anything better to do when he's not fucking Misaka's brains out," Worst explained.

"Worst… please? That's disgusting. I'd really rather not have that mental image. You're both my friends, and that's… man, that's too weird." The pyrokinesist's body shuddered. Worst felt the subtle movement against her palm, and her devious grin widened in response. He looked from left to right, and then left again, as if see if Accelerator had mysteriously teleported into the room, and rose up, leaving Worst's hand behind. "I have a few ideas of my own. Next time we chill, we'll swap 'em, see what's what and who's who."

"Misaka likes to see you putting work into this business relationship, minion. You've performed well enough today, and for that, Misaka will reward you."

Junichi looked at Worst quizzically, arms crossed. Then, it hit him. Quite literally; Worst chucked her desktop computer's mouse directly at his face; reluctant to use his ability to defend himself, Junichi was hit directly in the nose.

"What the actual… Worst, you goddamn cretin!" Junichi roared in pain, clutching his nose as he stumbled around the room, groaning in pain. Worst tossed her head back and laughed loudly, pointing at the spectacle before her as she kicked her legs.

October 8th, 2014. 8:32 PM.

The Kamijou family had decided to take the easy way out. Originally, Index had wanted fast food, but Misaki had objected, citing multiple studies suggesting that fast food was apparently the figurative and literal devil. Touma had found himself conflicted; he agreed that fast food was terrible for one's health, and he was well aware that Index ate it far too often, but at the same time, he loved to spoil the nun. Othinus was easy enough to please, at least in the food department.

In the end, a compromise had been reached; the Kamijou family would have pizza; once that compromise had been reached, however, a new conflict arose. What kind of pizza, and from where would they obtain it?

Index, who was sprawled out across the laps of both Kamijou Misaki and Kamijou Touma on the couch, raised her phone up. "Joseph's Coffee and Restaurant serve really good pizza… mmm… lookie here, they might even have specials! Let me check! But, oh, they don't deliver. That stinks. What kind of restaurant doesn't deliver?" the nun lamented.

"What about Giovanni's, in district four? We ordered from them last time, and, expensive or not, it was good stuff," Touma stated. He looked to Misaki, who looked back at her husband and offered him a smile.

"Should we ask Othinus? Where is Othinus, anyways?" Misaki inquired. The front door of Othinus' miniature mansion was left open, and Sphynx was laying in front of it, but wasn't facing it; if Othinus was inside, the elderly feline would've been pawing at and inside the door nonstop.

"Othinus? Oh, she figured out how to play Bloody Fist by herself. She's really good, even if she's not much bigger than the controller! She schooled me!" Index laughed. "I think she'll take whatever we give her, at this rate."

Touma and Misaki laughed along with Index at the thought of the former Magic God finding entertainment in a "foolish video game" designed for "slow-minded mortals".

"So? Giovanni's, or Joseph's? Any other ideas?" Touma asked; he didn't want to push his family, but his stomach was beginning to call out for attention.

"Joseph's is closer, and bussing isn't fun; it's lame… but not when you do it, Touma! You make the bus great for everyone!" Index exclaimed awkwardly. She rose up from her guardians' laps and stood on the carpeted floor, stretching her body as her arms reached for the ceiling.

"Joseph's is fine by me, baby." Misaki responded. "Index is right; it is late, and though public transit won't be crowded, I would much rather walk. The night is young, my prince; let us enjoy it!"

"Feeling adventurous?" Touma inquired, a grin forming on his face. "I could get the rest of the guys together, we could go sneak into the School Garden," Touma laughed, reminiscing. Misaki giggled, and though Index didn't seem to recall that particular adventure, she smiled nonetheless.

"Tonight has just been a regular old trip down memory lane, hasn't it?" Misaki said as she sighed contentedly.

"Hungry! Come on! I'll eat your head if we don't get going!" Index exclaimed. "Kidding, by the way. Kidding!"

"Let us see if Othinus would like to come, or would like us to bring something home for her, before we leave." Misaki suggested. All parties seemed to be in agreement, and so Misaki went on her way.

Misaki pushed open the door to Index's room; the ceiling light wasn't turned on, and the room was almost eerily, to Misaki at least, lit only by the glow of the television screen. Misaki stifled a gasp at what she saw playing out on the screen; The Palmtop Triceratops, a notoriously underpowered character in Bloody Fist's roster, being controlled by "P1", was decimating a CPU-controlled Draco the Knightbreaker. The bipedal, anthropomorphic dinosaur, clad in a light blue martial artist's outfit had nearly won the match. On the ground, a few feet away from the television screen, the arms of the fifteen-centimeter-tall Othinus lunged from one side of the console's controller to the other at blinding speeds.

"Othinus… how are you…?"

"Quiet, mortal! I need complete concentration! This foe will never conquer me!" Othinus exclaimed back at Misaki, not missing a single beat. Her left arm swung over to the left thumbstick, and her right to the "A" button.

Misaki emerged from her state of stunned silence, and moved her eyes away from the television screen; she couldn't help but chuckle softly at the behavior of both herself and that of the Former Magic God.

"Do you want to come with us? Touma, Index and I are going to Joseph's for dinner," Misaki offered.

"N-no… busy…" Othinus replied in a half-dazed state.

"Would you like us to bring something back for you, perhaps something in particular?"

At Othinus' command, the Palmtop Triceratops rammed the CPU-controlled Draco the Knightbreaker with his horns, causing blood, piles of internal organs, sometimes more than one organ of the same kind, and bones to fly from Draco's chest.

"I have a bag of the nun's chips. I'm set for the night. Shoo." Othinus commanded. Misaki shrugged indifferently and softly closed the door behind her.

As she emerged back into the living room of she and her family's home, Misaki saw that her husband and Index had already gotten suited up, or, at least, they slipped their shoes on, and were ready to go. Misaki smiled warmly at the two, slipped her own flats on, and offered her husband her hand. Touma quickly took it into his own. Their fingers interlocked, and, with his free right hand, Touma opened the door to their apartment. He motioned for Index to step out first, then followed behind her, his beloved soul mate in tow. Touma turned his key inside of both of the locks on the door, gave it a push, and then a tug to ensure that Othinus would be safe and sound, and the trio were off.

As the three stepped out from the entranceway of their apartment complex, a cool, refreshing breeze embraced them. The front of Misaki's bangs were gently blown about, and the bottom of Index's habit wagged ever so slightly. Touma deeply inhaled as his grip on his wife's hand tightened. Kamijou Touma was happy to be alive, after everything he had faced throughout his life. In this time of peace, not only in Academy City, but across the globe, Touma felt ecstatic.

The family, or at least, almost the entire family, walked silently, but happily. Still, Misaki wanted to talk with her husband. "So? I did not get the chance to speak with you when you got home from work. How was your day, my love?" Misaki inquired.

"Tiring, but satisfying, beautiful. Thanks for asking; we had a lot to get done in a pretty short amount of time; big shipment that was going out to, where did the foreman say it was? Let me think. There was a big shipment of, something, who knows what, going out to, uh… oh, district six! That's right!" Touma spoke, scratching his head awkwardly with his right hand.

"I could tell you were exhausted; ah, my hard-working husband…" Misaki said dreamily, smiling to herself as much as she was to her family. Index, who was periodically looking up from her phone giggled.

"You're both so cute when you get romantic like that, I love it!" Index exclaimed, blushing. "Never change, you two."

"I certainly don't plan on it," Touma responded, chuckling.

"Then, that makes two of us, my prince." Misaki stated. She leaned in and quickly pecked her husband on the cheek. Touma gently rubbed his thumb over the silky smooth skin of the top of Misaki's hand in response.

"What did you guys do today, I mean, aside from spending all our money on groceries?" Touma asked, laughing as he did so. Index jokingly pouted, and Misaki softly giggled. When her husband tried to be humorous, whether the end result was corny or not, Kamijou Misaki always found herself giggling at him. There was something that was so simple and natural about the charming nature of Kamijou Touma. He didn't even have to try; it just happened.

"Well, Othinus went about her business in her home for most of the morning, after she awoke. She wakes up very early, for someone who goes to sleep very late. Maybe one of us should talk with her about it? Though, I suppose she is not quite human. Perhaps she requires less sleep than us, or perhaps she simply sleeps to pass the time? I cannot say," Misaki began.

"I slept in – Misaki never woke me up! It's okay, though, it felt good. I got a text from Hyouka, but she must've sent it earlier in the morning. By the time I texted her back, she was busy again…" Index stated, with concern evident in her voice. For a moment, the nun gazed down at her phone awkwardly.

"Hyouka? How is she? Is Hyouka okay? She barely texts Misaki or me, and, man, it's been too long since she's come to visit. I hope she's alright," Touma said. Misaki looked to her husband, starry eyes looking into his own dark eyes.

"I am certain that Kazakiri-san is alright, baby. She knows that if she needs any help, there are people she can turn to, not just us. Do not forget; she is friends with Accelerator-san, Kakine-san, and Misaka-san, and even if Sogiita-san is… strange, he is a caring person. They are all more than capable," Misaki spoke reassuringly.

"Teitoku is another one who's gone ghost, but I guess that's what happens when you're off saving people; not a lot of time to drop in for tea and cookies," Touma joked. "I mean, we should know."

The anxiety in the air seemed to dissipate. Index put a smile back on her face, and looked up to the sky. At first, she thought she was seeing things, but high above Academy City's towers of glass and steel, she could just barely see an unidentifiable white mass travelling to some unknown destination.

A short time following their last conversation, Touma, Misaki and Index arrived at Joseph's Coffee and Restaurant. Given that it was shortly after nine PM, the establishment was far from crowded, though there was no need to worry about Joseph's shutting its doors for the night; it never did. To accommodate the maturing population of Academy City, most restaurants stayed open for twenty-four hours, and, if not, they stayed open 'til the wee hours of the morning.

Touma stepped into the restaurant, holding one of the two glass doors open for Index and his wife. "Thank you, kind sir; who said chivalry was dead?" Misaki rhetorically asked as she visibly laid claim to her husband's left hand, along with the rest of Kamijou Touma once again.

Joseph's Coffee and Restaurant had been given something of a makeover; though the interiors of the establishment were mostly the same as they had been ten years ago, the orange walls, black and white tiled floors, and white ceiling were given routine maintenance in order to keep up with Academy City's strict health and safety guidelines. Though the Joseph's chain of restaurants were by no means physically large, this particular restaurant had more than enough seating, mostly booths.

At the front counter of the restaurant, there were a series of stools, which were squashed between a bright, colorful sign, with the text "order here!" purposefully written in a messy, almost childlike fashion, and a "pick up here!" sign that of the same design.

The three took a seat at a nearby booth; Index sat in the corner of one side, while Touma and Misaki sat on the other. Index stretched herself out, letting her legs dangle over the edge of her side of the booth as she proceeded to happily mess around on her phone.

Misaki cuddled closely to Touma, and rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, and sighed contentedly, as she began to slowly, and softly run her fingers over the open palm of his left hand. This was a technique that Kamijou Misaki had finely honed; she usually used it as something of a lulling tactic to shatter her husband's grumpy illusions, however, in this case there were no illusions to shatter. Misaki simply wished to make her husband feel good.

"That, wow, that feels really nice… wow. You've always done that so good, you know?" Touma chuckled. Misaki nuzzled closer, grateful to finally have some time to spend with her beloved prince. "I am glad. All I want to do is make you feel good."

"Want to try exhibitionism?" Touma asked with a sarcastic chuckle. Misaki craned her neck to look to her husband, shot him a playful glare, and proceeded to place her index finger and thumb to his forehead.

Flick.

"Domestic violence! I'm being abused! Help me, Index!" Touma exclaimed. Index giggled and shook her head as she tapped the tempered glass screen of her phone, obviously deep into a tame-wasting game.

Some time had passed, though not quite enough to cause the Kamijous any frustration. Relative silence had returned to their booth; Touma had his right arm around Misaki, who continued to perform the technique her husband adored so much.

"H-hi! Welcome to J-Joseph's Coffee and R-Restaurant! My name is Ryuu, and I-I'll be your waiter this evening! I have m-menus for you right here! A-are you ready to order, by any c-chance?"

Touma smiled at the unfortunate waiter; he didn't look any older than seventeen, and he was, quite obviously, rather uncomfortable. The boy had short, clean-looking dark hair, and a baby face that lacked any sort of facial hair. He wore the restaurant chain's signature uniform; a dark polo shirt with a nametag, which displayed the name "Ryuu" written neatly in black ink, a pair of loose-fitting dark slacks, and non-slip shoes.

"We are, if you're ready to take our order!" Touma happily remarked. The Kamijous' waiter seemed to become just a little bit more confident.

"Great! Just let me reach down here, eheheh…" The Kamijous' waiter produced a small pad of paper from the back pocket of his slacks, along with a pen, and rested the utensil's tip against the paper. He looked expectantly to the Kamijous.

"Can I get a medium cheese pizza? No toppings, please and thank you?" Touma inquired. Ryuu nodded, looked down at his pad of paper, and quickly scribbled something down. Once Ryuu's head darted back up, eyes looking forward, Misaki smiled warmly at him. "I would like a medium vegetarian pizza, please, with the standard toppings, thank you." Ryuu swiftly went to work, scribbling more down on his pad, and then looked to Index.

"Oi, Index! Yoo-hoo! Earth to Kamijou Index!" Touma exclaimed, shaking his hand in front of the nun's face. Ryuu chuckled at the sight before him, a smile on his face. When Index failed to respond to him, Touma proceeded to grab a napkin from the nearby dispenser, crush it down into a ball, and then threw it at Index. She started, and nearly dropped her phone. As the nun looked up to the waiter before her, she began to furiously blush.

"S-sorry! I didn't even hear what was going on! Oh my, I'm SO sorry! How long did I keep everyone waiting?!" Index cried out in distress.

"Not long," Touma said reassuringly.

"Hi! Nice to meet you! Could I have two medium pepperoni pizzas, please? I'm hungry, hungry, hungry!" Index stated, patting her belly to emphasize her point.

The Kamijous' waiter seemed perplexed, at first, but wrote down the last part of his customers' order, regardless.

"Anything to drink tonight?" Ryuu asked. The Kamijous couldn't help but see the change that had come over the boy; once he became involved in his duties, he seemed to become a lot more confident.

"Cola for little miss cellphone addict and I, please?" Touma inquired with a chuckle.

"Might I have a glass of ice water, please and thank you?" Misaki responded with a giggle. She knew just how much her husband and Index loved their cola, even if it wasn't the best for them.

"Of course! I'll have it on your table in no time! Thank you for dining at Joseph's Coffee and Restaurant! We hope you enjoy your stay!" Ryuu enthusiastically said with a smile as he rushed off. "You think this is his first night?" Touma asked, looking to his wife, and then to Index.

"Perhaps! Regardless, I think he did a spectacular job; he was polite and as enthusiastic as a working person can reasonably be. I think we should give him a fair tip on the way out," Misaki commented.

"He was kind of handsome, too…" Index said softly. There was a short, but awkward silence that followed Index's statement.

"Uh oh."

The proclamation came from the mouths of both Kamijou Misaki and Kamijou Touma. They looked to one another, and shared a look of concern. It seemed that Index was reaching "that stage" of her mental and physical development.


	4. A Loving Family

Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki took a moment to look away from each other, and back to a blushing, embarrassed-looking Kamijou Index.

"I-Index? Do you really feel that way?" Touma inquired; he took a breath, and leaned in. "You can talk to us, Index, about anything you're feeling. You're a growing woman, who's just starting to figure things out. I know, in the past, you never really got the chance to… explore that sort of thing."

Misaki smiled at Index, who seemed to grow less and less embarrassed. Even if a faint blush remained visible on the nun's cheeks, she was able to look up at her guardians.

"Touma is right. You can come to us at any time, with any concern you may have. We will always listen, and we will always pass advice onto you. Othinus, despite her mannerisms and oftentimes harsh words, cares greatly for you, as well, and I am confident that she would listen." Misaki stated.

Index sat up properly in the center of her side of the booth, hands in her lap, and smiled back at her guardians. "C-could we talk now, maybe? Our food might be a little while? At least it'll take our minds off the wait, right?" Index inquired, shifting in her seat.

"Of course, Index. You don't have to ask," Touma responded. He placed his available hand on the table of their booth, as if to visually alert his wife and adopted dependant that he was about to begin a speech of sorts. "All you have to do is let one of us, or both of us know that you want to talk, and we'll drop everything. Do you want to talk about what you felt just now, or maybe what you've felt before? I guess I'll let you start." Touma chuckled.

"It felt funny, not in a bad way, though! There was an odd feeling near the bottom of my tummy, it felt almost like I was being tickled. It went from the bottom, and then up to my neck, and then it kind of stopped up there and went away. I've felt that same feeling before, I used to feel it when I would bite you, Touma!" Index explained, causing Misaki to giggle. Touma chuckled softly as he thought back to those olden days. There were a lot of problems in those olden days, but there was also a lot of light, and a lot of love.

Index continued. "There was a bit of a difference when I looked at… him, the boy who was taking our order, I felt like I had to look away; I never felt like that when I used to bite you! I think it's because I knew you wouldn't reject me or hurt me? I only just met this boy, so I guess it makes sense that I wouldn't trust him the way I trust you.

"It was just a funny feeling. I've felt it before, when I've been out with you guys, and I saw a… a-a nice looking boy! That same feeling would sometimes come, and sometimes it wouldn't. Sometimes, if a boy would smile at me it'd get worse, or maybe better? It's not a bad feeling, it just feels funny, honest! I'd never smile back, because I had to look away, and it was weird. I didn't feel like I was in control of my own actions, just like earlier."

Touma nodded sagely. "If you don't mind me asking, what do you think about when you get those feelings? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I'm just curious. If we can understand what you're thinking about, we can better help you put everything into perspective." Touma wanted to do his best to try and understand what Index had felt; maybe, he could relate his own experiences with hers. "When I first realized that I fell for this ravishing woman sitting next to me, I had all sorts of crazy thoughts, Index. Mind was all over the place!" Touma spoke. Misaki looked up at her husband, and, with cheeks that had become a shade of pinkish red, pulled his face down to her lips, and kissed his cheek. Misaki's eyes closed, and her lips curled into a grin as she pulled away, to Touma's subconscious disappointment.

"I don't mind. A-actually, I have to confess that I don't really think a lot when I start feeling like that. I do most of my thinking after the feeling's passed, but I usually think about cheesy things, like the stuff you see in romance novels or steamy movies. I… I guess, I like to imagine myself having the sort of love that you guys have." The nun spoke truthfully.

Index's thoughts, in that moment, turned to her feelings about her adoptive guardians' marriage. It was so positive, so full of adoration and love, so full of sweet, tender understanding and respect. "I don't really even know how you two do it; have you ever actually even fought once, or even had an argument about… well, anything? If you have, I don't remember it! I want something like that."

Misaki and Touma looked to one another, and offered each other a warm smile. Misaki affectionately rubbed her body against her husband's, as his arm's hold on her shoulders tightened.

"That is difficult for either of us to explain, Index. If I had a single conclusive explanation, I would never hesitate to provide you with it. I suppose, if I could hypothesize, I would say that it simply comes down to two factors; our chemistry, and the fact that Touma is a prince, and the greatest man in the world." Misaki spoke, leaning up to and kissing her husband's cheek as she did so.

Kamijou Index giggled happily, beyond ecstatic in regards to the scene unfolding before her; she was in love with her guardians' love. Kamijou Index never wanted to see them change, and she had the distinct feeling that she never would have to.

"But, Index, if you would have my advice, I would like to offer it to you, in regards to relationships." Misaki stated, a motherly sternness in her tone of voice. Misaki offered Index her hand, and Index gladly took it into her own. Looking deeply into Index's eyes, Misaki spoke.

"Touma and I will never stand in your way, or try to rule you with an iron fist. We can offer our guidance onto you, and do our best to give you the wonderful life that you deserve, and have always deserved. With this in mind... There are many people, not only in this City, but in this world, who will present themselves as friends, or as lovers, and try to take from you, and take from you until you have nothing left to give. Kamijou Index, if something seems too good to be true, it very likely is.

"Explore your mind's desires, Index. Explore your emotions, and learn more about this feeling. It is a good feeling, and it can lead you to great things, but, it can also be abused by those who manipulate and connive. I once knew someone like that... have I ever told you the story? I once knew someone who manipulated, and connived, and used people as if they were little more than puppets, dangling from so many strings, to achieve their own ends."

Kamijou Misaki sighed, and she saw Touma lovingly looking down at her, concern, or perhaps thoughtfulness in his eyes. With her husband's arm around her body, keeping her warm and protected, safe from the pointed tips of the blades of the past, and Index's hand in her own hand, Misaki felt comfortable enough to allow herself to speak freely.

"I do not speak with that person any longer, and I have not spoken with nor seen them in many, many years; but I know what became of them. On a fateful summer day, the events that would lead up the shattering of their illusions began."

Touma immediately understood who his wife was referring to; he didn't want to jump to conclusions, when Misaki had begun to speak. He and his wife had met a lot of dark, disturbed individuals, after all, many of whom fit such a description. Kamijou Touma knew it wasn't necessarily a dark, or disturbed individual that Kamijou Misaki was referring to. "Misaki's talking… about herself; about Shokuhou Misaki. Beautiful, you were never that bad. Don't be so hard on yourself. Besides, you realized what you were doing was wrong! That's what's important! You grew out of it, baby! Don't beat yourself up over the past."

Index fell silent. She had been left with a lot to consider. "Misaki's right… If I'm going to… e-explore my feelings, as she and Touma put it, I need to play it safe, and watch my back. Hey, there's no rush! There's plenty of time, right? I've got plenty of time to learn!"

Kamijou Index smiled brightly, and released her adoptive guardian's hand from her own. "Thanks, guys. I feel really good about… things, just everything. I always feel great after I talk to you, we need to do it more often!" The nun spoke, the joy evident in her tone of voice. Her guardians smiled warmly back at her. Touma chuckled, and reached across the table. He patted Index on the shoulder with his left hand, keeping his right as far away from Index's Walking Church as he possibly could.

"Any time. It's what we're here for. Well, talking, food, and money."

Three of the four Kamijous laughed aloud with mirth, together, as a family, as one.

It was then that the succulent, tempting scent of incoming food, delivered onto the Kamijous' collective nostrils broke their laughter. Index slowly licked her lips as her eyes widened. The pizza's scent was enthralling. It made Index want to devour the entire thing in one mighty, incomprehensibly impossible gulp.

"S-sorry for the delay! A medium cheese, no toppings! A medium vegetarian, classic! Two medium pepperonis for the l-lovely lady coming right away! I just need to run back and grab 'em!" The Kamijous' waiter, Ryuu exclaimed, barely balancing the two pizzas he had been charged with presenting to his employer's customers. Ryuu, surprisingly, managed to get both pizzas safely onto the booth's table, and then proceeded to scoot back from where he came. A few moments passed, and Ryuu returned, carrying another two medium pizzas. He carefully set both down in front of Index, who was staring down at her lap. Twice more he left, and twice more he returned – once, to bring a large pitcher filled to the brim with cola, and second, to bring three tall, plastic cups.

"I-if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to c-come find me! I-I'll be back to check on you in a while! We hope you enjoy your dining experience, tonight!" Ryuu exclaimed as he swiftly took off yet again.

"He called me a… a lovely lady…" Index commented, lips curled into a small, hopeful smile. Still staring down at her lap, where her hands, fiddling with her fingers sat, the nun seemed to have suddenly forgotten about her pizza.

"O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo? Your pizza's going to get cold." Touma teased, as he finished pouring his family's drinks.

"O-oh! Hey! Don't make fun of me! Toouummmaaaaa…" A piece of a relic of the past resurfaced. Index's glaring, predatory eyes locked with Touma's own, and the Bearer of the Imagine Breaker swiftly cuddled as closely as he could to his wife.

"Index… no… Misaki, beautiful, help me! She's going rabid!"

"Touma dshoesn't mean any harm by it, Indexsh. Pleashe, calm yourshelf." Misaki stated as she bit into, and then began to chew some of her pizza.

"Yeah! It was just a joke, Index! Relax… just playing around with you. Besides, I'm pretty sure my head has evolved to withstand your fangs."

Misaki swallowed her food, and then gave Index a sly, somewhat nefarious wink. Misaki removed her husband's right arm from around her shoulders, and placed his hand against the outside of her thigh. Instantly, Touma's male instincts took over, and, to Index, he seemed to become focused entirely on whatever it was his wife was doing with his hand. Misaki gently turned her husband's face towards her own, fingers placed on his chin, and she closed in on him as a curious and deeply intrigued Index watched on, silently making mental notes as she chewed her pizza. Misaki's lips curled into a thin, seductive smile, as she looked into her beloved's eyes.

"Let us come to a compromise. Be a good boy, Kamijou Touma, and I will allow you to indulge in that dirty little kink of yours for as long as you feel you need to, and afterwards… well, afterwards, once you are satisfied, I am certain that we can figure something out."

Touma, who looked to be in something of a daze, gave a distracted nod. Index couldn't see it, but Touma ran both of his hands over Misaki's thigh, and as far down her right leg as he could, before she reluctantly removed her husband's groping hands, and gave him a longing, but stern look, as if to say, "soon, but not in public."

"Y-yeah. That works for me, beautiful… s-sorry, Index. Didn't mean to tease, or push your buttons. I was just messing around with you. I really, really don't want to get bit. So rough… so painful."

Index had her hands over her mouth, and her eyes were practically watering; it had just been such an amusing sight. The mighty Bearer of the Imagine Breaker had been effortlessly tamed. Of course, Index had noted everything that had transpired; Misaki was a rather shrewd negotiator, and the nun knew that, someday, if she ever found herself in a similar situation, being able to swiftly negotiate in such a way would be an important skill to learn early.

"I wasn't really going to bite you anyways, silly Touma!" Index laughed. She took another bite from her pizza, and began to daydream.

"I wonder… what would it be like to have a boyfriend? Not all boys are like Touma, some of them are rude, or perverted, like Touma's stupid friends. I wonder if Kaori knows more about boys? Does she have a thing with… him? I hope not. Stiyl doesn't deserve someone that's nice like Kaori. He deserves someone mean and nasty, like Birdway. Eheheh… imagine that. Or Agnese!"

"What's so funny, Index?" Touma pried. He looked on, slightly concerned, as his adopted dependent giggled madly to herself. Misaki finished her third piece of pizza, and went for a fourth as Touma continued to gaze down at the nun across from him.

"O-oh… I was thinking… imagine if Stiyl hooked up with Birdway? Or Agnese?! It would be comedy gold!" Index laughed.

Touma, despite himself, found that he had suddenly burst out laughing, causing Misaki, who had fallen into her own thoughts, to start slightly. "Stiyl, and Birdway-san? Which Birdway-san? Patricia's too soft-spoken for someone like Stiyl, and Leivinia… yikes. I don't want to imagine it. Leivinia's a good person, but she's a bit rough around the edges, even by Stiyl's standards."

"I would use the term "friend" extremely loosely, my prince." Misaki interjected. Kamijou Misaki's brow furrowed at the thought of Leivinia Birdway's existence, and she found herself, for the first time that week, becoming rather peeved. Misaki took her husband's hand in her own hand, and protectively grasped it as tightly as she could. She felt her hand being raised to her husband's lips. As they pressed against the top of Misaki's hand, her frustration faded into obscurity.

"Beef!" Index exclaimed. The nun proceeded to produce her phone from the pocket of her habit, unlocked the device, and then began to tap up a storm.

Neither of her guardians could see, or had any idea as to who she was texting, or what she was texting. Index finished typing up her message, and reread it once to make sure her spelling and punctuation were on par, something Index was often obsessive with.

"Last Order, I owe you ¥1616. We might need to add a new-old potential threat to our list. I'll give you all the details when we hang out… also, we might need to resurrect PROTECT. I'm going to text Hyouka. Love ya."

Index looked back up to her guardians, her lips curling into a devilish smirk. "I'm on your side, Misaki! I'll hold your weave while you fight!"

"W-weave?!" Misaki proclaimed, sounding almost offended; but before long, she lost all pretense of mock-seriousness and shook her head, grinning. Touma took a long sip of his cola, and then placed the cup back down on the table. Onto his fifth piece of pizza, Touma took a large bite, and then placed it back into the pan from where he lifted it.

"You guys are the best. Misaki, Index, Othi-chan in spirit… you're awesome. Best family ever." Touma said. He felt like a million bucks; Kamijou Touma had everything he could ever ask for, and more.

"I agree completely, Kamijou Touma. We truly are the best and greatest. We are different, but that is what makes us so great; it is good to be different." Misaki responded, as she finished her own piece of pizza.

"You've got something on your lip, Misaki! Looks like sauce." Index pointed out. "We're the greatest because I'm here."

As Misaki ran a napkin over her lips, she giggled. Touma moved his wife's blonde, fluffy hair away from her neck and quickly snuck a kiss.

"Someone seems to be in a particularly… physical mood. Oh, when we get home, Kamijou Touma, you are mine and mine alone."

"Woah, dude, it's a girl."

"S-she's got a s-sexy voice…"

Othinus groaned. This was the one major problem with playing online matches with other players; on gaming consoles, especially the XedCross 1440, most matchmaking lobbies were filled to the absolute brim with younger, mostly immature people.

The former Magic God had her golden hair tied back in a messy knot with a tiny, sparkling blue elastic band, which more than likely originally came packed with an expensive collector's doll. the ends of Othinus' knot hung just above her tailbone. The former Magic God sat in front of her controller's microphone attachment, which was plugged into the back of the controller; the bendable, snake-like wire of the microphone was considerably taller than Othinus, and she had to bend it downwards in order to comfortably speak into microphone itself.

"Greetings, hormonal, pubescent mortals. We should find a fourth one of your kind so that we might have a two-on-two match." Othinus stated firmly.

For a moment, neither of the two individuals responded. Then, the distinctive shaking of a microphone could be heard before one of the two spoke.

"Uhh… my mom says dinner's ready. I gotta go!" The boy, who sounded like he couldn't be any older than thirteen or fourteen complained, before he left Othinus' party in the matchmaking lobby.

"Hahaha! What a loser, huh?" The second, and now only other individual in the party awkwardly exclaimed. This boy didn't sound like he was any older – his voice was just deep enough for Othinus to be able to almost certainly confirm his gender.

"You versus me, mortal. I will destroy your spirit until nothing is left but shattered hopes and broken dreams!" Othinus responded, pounding her tiny fist against the plastic controller, her eye wide with anticipation. The former Magic God stumbled away from the microphone, and crawled into her nearby bag of chips.

"Y-you're taking this kinda seriously… it's just a game!" The boy replied, his voice sounding slightly uneasy.

Once she emerged from the cavernous bag of chips, tossing an armful of them onto the floor next to her controller, Othinus' expression was oddly serious, given the situation she found herself in. "Just a game? Bloody Fist is not "just a game"; it's a way of life. It's a guideline to be followed to a fine point. Bloody Fist is everything. Bloody Fist has taught me many lessons, mortal. If I never played Bloody Fist, I would've never learned that, in order to kill a giant half-weasel, half-rooster man, one must stab him in the throat with a sickle. If I were to ever encounter a giant half-weasel, half-rooster man without this knowledge, I would surely die."

"Yeah, you're fucking weird! Too weird! Why do all the girls with the sexy voices always have to be so weird?!" The boy cried out in what sounded like distress.

"Weirdness is entirely subjective." Othinus stated. "What is weird to you, could be entirely normal to another, and vice-versa. Of course, in my previous sermon, I jested. However, there may be a mortal out in this wide, open world that well, truly, and strongly feels this way; looking down on said mortal, solely because their values and beliefs that they cling to so dearly are so very different from your own would be extremely closed-minded."

For a while, the voice on the other end didn't say anything; Othinus could hear the feedback from the boy's microphone. As well, she could hear what sounded like a dryer, or perhaps a washing machine working in the background. Eventually, the boy cleared his throat.

"That's fucking deep! I guess I never thought about it that way; doesn't mean you're not weird though. You're really weird." The boy finally said in response. The sounds of his body shifting, and what sounded like springs protesting could be heard as a gust of air passed by the microphone, creating mild interference. "

"Enough fucking around, are we looking for two more people for two-on-two? Or just wanna go one-on-one? Might not be a lot of people on this late. Hey, where are you from, weird girl?" The boy inquired.

"I'm not a "girl", mortal, I'm a woman, and I don't feel comfortable telling you where I live." Othinus snapped back, taking a bite out of one of her chips. "It's none of your business. Let's give it some time; someone, from somewhere, will enter the lobby, eventually. It'll be a matter of recruiting them before one of the other parties do."

"Yeesh! Okay, weird woman!" The boy exclaimed defensively. "Alright, alright… I guess that works. Ha. Do you go to school?"

"No. I've been to schools, but I've never "gone to school". I've been dragged on a lot of "adventures", and by adventures, I mean annoyances." Othinus replied.

"Adventures? Like sneaking into abandoned houses?" The boy inquired, curiosity evident in his voice.

Othinus took another bite from her chip, and set it down next to her. She began to hear the sounds of Sphinx's paw knocking at the door to Index's room. Ignoring it, Othinus turned her attention back to the boy on the other end. "Nothing you need to know about. I presume you're part of a pris- I mean, educational system."

"Nah, you were right the first time! It really is like a prison! They make us wear fucking stupid uniforms, and everything! I'm surprised they don't make us hit rocks out in the field!" The boy responded, laughing more with himself than with Othinus, who didn't laugh at all.

By some miracle, another active player joined the matchmaking lobby, and Othinus' tiny heart jumped into her equally tiny throat.

"GUTS54321" was the newcomer's name. The former Magic God felt dread strike her in the same heart that had, moments ago, been beating swiftly in anticipation. Othinus felt fear.

"No. No, no, no, no, NO. NO! Not HIM! Anyone but him! I'll take Thor! Get rid of HIM, and give me Thor! Give me that annoying Railgun girl! Give me anyone! ANYONE BUT HIIIMMM!"

"I hope you've both got your wills in order; my guts will overcome anything you can possibly hurl my way! Your strategies are hopeless! Your tactics, your skill, no matter how impressive, will fail you! YOU LACK GUTS!" The newcomer exclaimed; the sound of flesh beating loudly against bone could be heard; Othinus imagined the newcomer on the other end, pounding their chest in a feral display of fury.

"It had to be you. It just had to be you. Of course; this was the only possible outcome. If I didn't already know, I'd ask what I'd done to deserve this fate." The former Magic God complained.

"Hey… that voice! Olivia! I didn't know you played Bloody Fist! How far are you in single player?" The newcomer practically demanded.

"He's an irritating, brain-numbingly moronic bonehead, but at the least, he respects my desires to remain anonymous."

"I've beaten it on two characters thus far; Palmtop Triceratops, and Primate Pounder. It's fairly interesting, but I felt the final boss encounter was far too difficult." Othinus confessed.

"You lack even more guts than I thought! I've beaten single player with every character, up to "masochist" difficulty! Even I lack the guts for "Deeper, Daddy!" difficulty, though. It's brutal… not even Draco can make it all the way through!" the newcomer seemed to lose his bravado as he came clean, and Othinus found herself grinning.

"So. He's not unstoppable."

"If you believe yourself to be so 'gutsy', why don't we put you to the test, mortal? You, versus this boy and I?" Othinus taunted, as she finished the rest of her first chip, and moved onto the second.

"That's what I like to hear! A challenge! Show me your guts; and you… PimpDaddy619! You need to show me your guts, too!" The newcomer challenged.

"Why are there so many weird people on tonight?!" The boy cried out in desperation.

Index finished the last piece of her second pizza, and quietly burped. The nun ran her hands over her bloated stomach, and she sighed contentedly. The taste of tomato sauce, cheese, and spicy pepperonis remained in her mouth, and she loved every second of it.

"Ugh, Index, you pizza-eating fiend!" Touma remarked. He pushed the pan containing the remaining quarter of his pizza away, and stretched. "How'd you eat two of them? You usually don't eat all that much these days."

"I had an early lunch! The hunger gap was bigger than normal!" Index explained, as she fiddled with her phone, fingers tapping swiftly on the device's virtual keypad.

"Mm. Joseph's pizza is always so good… I feel like I won't have to eat for another week." Misaki commented, her head leaning against Touma's shoulder.

"You know you'll be hungry in the morning." Index teased. "Speaking of which… Touma, what's for breakfast? You're off tomorrow, and for the rest of the weekend, so until Monday you have to make breakfast for me, Misaki, and Othinus." Index commanded. Touma responded with a bewildered look.

Next to him, Misaki quietly laughed to herself. "Index is right, my love. It is your sworn duty… if I let you get out of bed, that is. Maybe Index will have to fend for herself. I might not feel like sharing you."

Index shot Misaki a look of feigned anger, and then mockingly stuck her tongue out at her guardian. "No fair! I'll invade your headquarters and make you get up!"

"How are you thinking about breakfast?! You just ate, Index!" Touma exclaimed, exasperated. Once the initial shock had passed, Touma seemed to cool off, and he grinned at his chuckling dependant. "Of course I'll make you guys breakfast. All you had to do was ask. If Othi-chan isn't hungry right away, I can make something up for her and put it in the fridge." Touma said.

Index scooted over to the other side of her booth, and, standing up, the nun stretched her arms in the air, and flexed her legs, sighing in pleasure as she did so. "Wow, we sat for a while… my bum hurts." The nun complained.

"Oh, hey! Here comes Romeo." Touma commentated with a chuckle, which earned him a glare from Index, who shook her fist at him. "I'll get you someday, Toouummmaaaaa! And when I do…"

Touma felt a familiar sensation; Misaki's index finger and thumb had, through some dark magic, found their way to her husband's forehead. Touma closed his eyes, mockingly cringing in feigned dread.

Flick.

"Our compromise, husband? Hmm?" Misaki pried, looking at her soul mate sternly. She pointed the index finger of the same hand she'd just flicked him with at him. Touma looked into his wife's peculiar, starry eyes – eyes he thought were two of the most beautiful things in the world. As her husband's eyes looked into her own, Misaki's heart melted.

Misaki's finger found its way to the tip of Touma's nose, and she giggled as she gave him a gentle, loving poke.

"Hello! How was everything tonight? To your liking, I hope?" Ryuu asked. He stood some feet away from the booth, a small, leather booklet, and a pen in hand.

"Absolutely; everything was brilliant. Thank you so much for your wonderful service this evening!" Misaki complimented. Their waiter's face lit up, and his lips curled into a small, confident smile.

"Seriously; you did great." Touma commented, giving the boy a thumbs up.

"T-thank you! I… I really a-appreciate it! I-it means a lot to me, to know that I'm doing a good job, here." Ryuu stated. He approached, and placed the leather booklet on the booth's table, opened it, and, removing the pen's lid, circled the Kamijous' bill. Kamijou Misaki and Kamijou Touma looked it over, both nodding in agreement – it seemed that everything checked out alright, at ¥3070.82

"Will you be paying with cash or a debit or credit card this evening?" Ryuu inquired, as he stepped back to give his employer's customers their personal space.

"Cash, please." Misaki replied, before she proceeded to open her purse, and began to dig through it.

"She's the boss," Touma commented, and Ryuu chuckled. Index, who still stood off to the side, looked to Touma and smiled. She pointed to the restrooms, which weren't too far from her family's booth. Touma nodded, to confirm that everything was copasetic, and Index took her leave.

Misaki, who had fished out her handbag, placed the amount due on the receipt, along with a generous tip of ¥808. She zipped her handbag back up, placed it carefully into her purse, and slung the fashionable traveling companion back over her shoulder.

"Thank you for choosing to dine at Joseph's Coffee and Restaurant, this evening! If you have any compliments, complaints, general comments, or just want to drop us a line, you can visit us on our website. I hope you guys have a wonderful night." Ryuu said, a genuine smile on his face. He gave a nod, and took his leave.

Some few minutes passed, and Index, who had just emerged from the restroom, hands scrubbed clean and dried to the point of obsessiveness, stopped in place. The nun experienced a strange surge of sudden determination, and, with a nod to her approaching guardians, made her move.

Kamijou Index was overcome by tunnel vision. One foot after the other, her arms swaying as casually as she could make them at her sides, Index approached the boy named Ryuu. Her long, silver hair swayed from side to side in rhythm with her arms, and, before long, Index had closed the distance between herself and the boy named Ryuu. Index breathed deeply, nervousness coursing through her body, which caused her heart to beat quickly. For some reason, Index felt that she was doing something wrong, something that she wasn't supposed to be doing. Shaking off the thought, Index clenched her fists.

"H-hi!"

Ryuu looked up from his smartphone, and offered an awkward, but gentle and friendly smile to Index. To Ryuu, someone who had lived in Academy City his entire life, this woman was a strange sight to behold. She looked to be dressed like a nun, at least, her clothes resembled the habit worn by a nun. Her long, white robes, trimmed with golden fabric accented her attractive feminine form. Her odd, yet beautiful silver hair trailed down her back, and nearly touched the floor, and her azure eyes were deeply intriguing to Ryuu.

"H… H-hey! Is everything okay? The bill wasn't wrong or anything, was it?" Ryuu inquired, and Index shook her head.

"N-no! Absolutely not, everything came out just fine!" Index responded, folding her hands behind her back.

"I'm just going to handle this with a different mindset; I'm trying to make a new friend, that's all! I've done it before, and I'll do it again! Yeah, friends are great!"

"I… I was w-wondering if you'd like to exchange… phone numbers? I'd love to make friends with you! I'm always looking for new friends, and you seem r-really nice!" Index stated. The nun's heart jumped into her throat, and she felt terrified, for a split second. She felt like she was making a complete idiot of herself. Index thought she'd be laughed off, or that the boy, who was clearly shy, would feel intimidated, and would run away.

Except, nothing of the sort happened. Rather, the boy named Ryuu blushed heavily, and offered Index a warm smile.

"Uhh… hahaha, sure! I don't see why not! I… uh, sorry! I'm not really used to this s-sort of thing! Here, I-I'll give you mine! I-if you want, you can t-text me anytime you want! When I'm not working, I'm… uh… not doing a whole lot of anything, really… just school." Ryuu replied. He and the oddly dressed, but stunningly beautiful woman exchanged phone numbers, both blushing rather heavily, more out of a mutual lack of understanding of these types of situations than any sort of "love at first sight".

Index thanked the boy named Ryuu kindly, and, with a small, playful wave, walked swiftly over to her waiting guardians. The three didn't exchange words, as they left Joseph's Coffee and Restaurant.

"I… I did it, on my first try! I t-talked to a b-boy I d-don't know!" Index exclaimed, ecstatic, as the three stepped out from the restaurant's interior; Index pumped her fists in the air as she twirled, her hair floating on the breeze as she did so. Touma ruffled Index's hair with his left hand, once she had decided that enough twirling was enough.

"Good job, Index. When's the wedding ceremony?" Touma inquired, chuckling to himself. Index stuck her tongue out at her guardian, and then proceeded to run behind him. The nun leapt onto his back. Index wrapped her arms and legs around her guardian. Touma, the gentle giant that he was, had no difficulties when it came to piggybacking his dependent.

Misaki produced her phone, raised it up to the faces of her husband and adopted dependent, and snapped a picture. "So adorable! I simply could not pass up the chance!" Misaki exclaimed in glee, as she swooned.

Some time had passed, and three of the four Kamijous had arrived back at their apartment complex. Index hadn't spoken much; she had spent most of the trip home with her head lazily rested on her guardian's shoulder. Misaki and Touma had walked arm in arm, and hand in hand, deeply contented. The couple hadn't spoke much either, but they hadn't needed to.

"Alright, oh glorious Ojou-Sama, Kamijou Index; ride's over." Touma stated. Index incoherently complained as she slid down from Touma's back.

"Tired now. Excitement, food, love. Sleep soon." Index mumbled after a few seconds had passed since her last attempt at speaking. Misaki lovingly took Index into her arms, and kissed her on the forehead as Touma called for the elevator.

Once the elevator arrived – Touma was surprised that it even did, the trio stepped into the vacant car, pressed their floor's number into the elevator's keypad, and proceeded to play the ever-beloved waiting game.

"You have reached: floor eight! If this is your destination, please exit now! Thank you, and have a wonderful day!"

The elevator's doors split open. Kamijou Misaki, aiding the groggy-looking, half-awake Kamijou Index, followed by a chuckling Kamijou Touma stepped out as the doors closed behind them. Touma inserted the key into the lock on the door of his family's apartment, turned the key to the left, and gently pushed the door open. He held it open, only closing it after one of his two dependents and his wife stepped through.

"I am going to put Index to bed, and check on the One-Eyed Menace, my sunshine. I will return for you." Misaki stated, pointing a finger at Touma and winking. Touma nodded in anticipation, offering his wife a desiring grin, as he approached their couch, and threw himself down onto it.

"At least this time around I don't feel like I'm dying, eh, Sphinx?" Touma rhetorically asked the cat, who sat upright, and next to him on the couch, as if it were imitating a human; he didn't expect his family's elderly pet to verbally respond, but it wouldn't have surprised him if it did.

"Mrrreeow." Sphinx replied; it might've meant something in Cat.

Touma placed his left hand on Sphinx's head, and ran his fingers all the way down to the center of the elderly feline's back. Sphinx purred in content, and nuzzled its old friend's hand.

As Misaki left Index's room, Touma heard a triumphant shout from Othinus, who apparently remained with Index. "Bow to your overlord, pathetic mortals! I CONQUER! Where are your guts now, you spiky-haired jester?!"

Kamijou Misaki, giggling, softly closed the door to Index's room behind her. She didn't move, but, instead, raised her arm. With her hand extended, Misaki wiggled her left hand's index finger in Touma's direction, and slowly ran her tongue across her lips. Misaki raised her eyebrows, turned away from her husband, and slowly walked into their bedroom.

Touma looked down at Sphinx, who cocked its head.

"Gotta go. Take care of yourself, you old coot." Touma said. He raised his open left hand to his forehead, and saluted. Sphinx stared at Touma for a moment, before it proceeded to begin bathing. The Bearer of the Imagine Breaker rose up from his seat on the couch, and began to eagerly walk towards he and his wife's bedroom, their personal sanctum of love and adoration, a place where no darkness dared to, or could tread.

Softly, slowly opening the door, fingers wrapped around the cool wooden frame, Touma poked his head into his bedroom. It was so warm, so comforting, and so familiar; their bedroom wasn't large, by any means, but it didn't have to be.

In the upper center of the Kamijous' bedroom sat a spacious bed, that took up most of the room's space – to its immediate left, there was a small walk-in closet that contained the married couple's various outfits. To the immediate right, there was a large shelf, which was almost entirely occupied by baubles of emotional significance to the couple. One shelf contained Misaki's wedding veil, her gown, which was neatly folded, and the high-heeled shoes Misaki had worn on the day in which she had left the name "Shokuhou Misaki" behind. Next to it, was the neatly folded tuxedo, which Touma had worn, on the day that everything changed for the better. On another shelf, there were various trinkets, some of which had been won by the couple at arcades, and some of which had been purchased as gifts. There was one trinket in particular which sat in a space of its own. It was a long, thin silver whistle, which was attached to a thin silver chain.

Kamijou Touma had encountered this scene, or a scene like this, many times in his life. There was a woman in the midst of undressing herself, her top pulled from her body and tossed aside. Her tight-fitting leggings were halfway down her long, silky smooth-looking legs, and her flowing, golden hair which had been allowed to fall straight down, ran down her back, and over her shoulders. This wasn't a scene of misfortune, which would end in Touma being attacked – at least not in a way he disliked.

Kamijou Touma confidently stepped into he and his wife's bedroom, and softly closed the door behind him. Kamijou Misaki, his soul mate, his one true love, who sat on the edge of their bed, looked up at Touma, and smiled warmly.

"I am glad that you decided to stop by. A week in which I can hardly find time to become intimate with my beloved husband, my big, juicy, delicious, mouth-watering husband… is a week that could do with improvement." Misaki purred, as she fully removed her leggings. She rose up from the bed, and approached Touma.

"You know, I actually had a dream about something like this earlier. Difference was, we were in Tokiwadai… you woke me up before we could get to it, oh evil one." Touma joked, taking Misaki into his arms. Kamijou Misaki tugged at her husband's shirt, and looked up at him longingly.

"Let me show you how evil I can be. Get those clothes off, and join me in bed. I want to feel your bare body against my own; it has been too long." Misaki stated firmly. Touma, who felt more than a little sexually needy, proceeded to shed his layers of fabric skin, and reverted to the primal outfit all humans were born in, and in which all humans would pass on with.

Kamijou Touma made haste; he climbed up onto he and his wife's bed, just as Kamijou Misaki finished with the removal of her undergarments. Misaki laid herself down, head resting comfortably against a pair of stacked pillows. Misaki opened her arms, and physically encouraged Touma to climb into her arms; he did so without a second of hesitation.

Misaki's muscular arms gripped tightly around Touma's back. She looked up at her beloved prince, and her starry eyes locked with Touma's own dark eyes.

"Do you know just how long I have been waiting for this, my prince? Do you know just how long I have been craving for you and I to take to this paradise of ours, lock ourselves away from the outside world, and lose ourselves? Do you know just how long I have waited to be pleasured by you, Kamijou Touma?" Misaki inquired, her lips quivering along with the rest of her body, which shook with anticipation.

Kamijou Touma lost all sense of self-control; any restraint he might've had was broken. Touma dove towards his wife's neck, and, as his naked body rubbed against hers, he began to ravenously kiss. His eyes closed, and Kamijou Touma was lost in his adoration of Kamijou Misaki's body. Misaki's nails dug into his back as she struggled to keep her pleasured, ecstatic moans under control. The pain, though dull, served only to further turn Touma on, and it upped his body's high.

"K… Kamijou Touma, you are the only man I ever want! The only person! You, you, you, you, you… you… Kamijou Touma, you are… you are my lifeblood!" Misaki hissed between clenched teeth. Misaki, even in the throes of such deep pleasure, ensured that she was gentle with her handling of her husband. She gently coaxed Touma's lips to the other side of her neck, as she felt her body producing moisture. "Do the o-other side! I want to be kissed, and licked, and touched from top to bottom by you! Don't you dare even think about stopping!" Misaki whispered, the passion in her voice beyond evident. Kamijou Misaki was in heaven. Her entire body felt euphoric; she felt like she understood everything. Misaki's mind felt clear.

Kamijou Touma grunted in response, as if he had well and truly reverted to animalistic proto-human instincts. Touma's hands fell to his wife's hips, and he grasped them tightly as he continued with his savage feast. Kamijou Misaki could just barely reign in her moans.

As if compelled by some unknown force, Kamijou Touma removed himself from his wife's ravaged neck. Panting along with her husband, Misaki began to respond in kind by pressing her lips against her husband's great, muscular chest.

"You make me fucking wild, Misaki. I barely even breathed while I was in there… fuck me, you're a goddess. But I'm not done just yet." Touma stated. He sat up, the moaning, salivating Misaki still latched to him, and let his eyes soak in the natural beauty of his wife's form – a form which he would soon submit to. "I'm pretty sure we had a compromise."

"Oh?" Misaki asked, intrigued, ceasing her kissing as she looked up at her husband. Kamijou Misaki's lips curled into a devious grin. "I am fairly sure that you voided our contract, my sunshine. The terms and agreements stated that, if you were a good boy, I would allow you to have your fun with me; but you misbehaved. What a shame!" Misaki purred, as she proceeded to overpower her husband. Touma playfully fought back, chuckling as his wife forcibly mounted him.

"Can you at least lean down a little bit, oh mighty Ojou-Sama? Your chest is fucking amazing, but I'd rather not just lay here and look at it." Touma spoke. As his hands reached up to latch onto Misaki's bosom, she, with a devilish giggle, restrained her husband's arms; she grasped each of his wrists, and pinned them to the bed.

"Not fair." Touma grumbled. The two looked into one another's eyes, mock-sternness glowing in them, both of their lips curled into a forced frown before they both broke down laughing.

"How can I say no to you, my sunshine? I never could, and it seems that I still cannot. Entertain yourself." Misaki purred, as she began to slowly lower her bosom towards Touma's eager face.

Touma's lips and tongue went to work; chills crawled down Misaki's spine, and she began to speak again. Or, at least, she tried to.

"Oh… oh, oh, my… oh, my, GOD… I… I cannot even… speak… so good… your tongue knows just what to do, as do your lips… you are such a perverted man, Kamijou Touma! I love it!" Kamijou Misaki hissed, as she pulled herself away; if Misaki was going to lay out the terms and conditions of their newest "compromise", she would first need to compose herself.

"I was really enjoying myself, beautiful. Fuuuuck, I've missed those," Touma panted. He continued to playfully fight against his wife's dominion, but he couldn't seem to get loose.

"I am glad that you… enjoy them so much." Misaki panted, smiling, her cheeks glowing pinkish red. "It is not fair for me to deny you of your favorite pastime, I suppose; I am going to dismount, and then, sick-minded husband of mine, let loose, and indulge in your dirty little kink."

True to her word, as always, Kamijou Misaki cautiously climbed off from Kamijou Touma, and sat herself back down on the bed. Touma swiftly clambered onto his knees, and moved in for the kill; before he began the feeding frenzy, however, he looked to his wife expectantly, and raised an eyebrow. "Beautiful? Could you help me out, here? You know…" Touma cryptically inquired.

Kamijou Misaki's lips curled into a small, seductive grin. She knew exactly what her husband was referring to. "Of course, everything. Anything to help my man get off." Misaki's facial expression became serious, she raised an eyebrow quizzically, as her expression changed from serious to snobbish in a split second. Misaki harnessed what remained of her inner Ojou-Sama, and, as gently as she could manage, grasped Touma's shoulders, pulled him towards her, and, with the index finger of her right hand, pointed to her upper thigh.

"Kiss. Now. Don't disappoint me."

"Yes, my Queen."

As he began to kiss one of his favorite parts of his wife's body, Touma didn't know for certain what it was specifically about this particular roleplaying scenario that brought him such deep, fulfilling pleasure; he hadn't always enjoyed this sort of thing, but when he discovered the part of him that enjoyed being completely submissive to his soul mate, it was something he knew he liked.

Kamijou Touma's warm, wet lips slid across, and around Kamijou Misaki's upper thigh as he passionately kissed, his dedication to the task that had been set before him unwavering. Misaki wanted to moan in pleasure, or force her husband's wonderful, skilled mouth to another nearby part of her body that desperately needed to be taken care of, but both could potentially shatter the illusion that Touma enjoyed so much. Instead, Misaki kept her head held high, kept her eyes closed, and crossed her arms beneath her bosom.

For some time, Touma continued, until Misaki took the reigns again.

"Satisfactory. Now, lower, and lick. Enough kissing." Misaki commanded. She pointed to a specific spot, just beneath her knee. A pleasured giggle nearly escaped her lips, but for the sake of her beloved's own pleasure, she held it back.

"Of course… my Queen…" Touma mumbled; the words practically fell from his mouth, so deep was he in heavenly fulfilment. His tongue moved, and Kamijou Misaki simply couldn't hold back; a moan fled from her lips, and, as Touma continued, undeterred, she did her best to pick up the pieces of the shattered illusion.

"Satisfactory. You have given me pleasure, but do not let yourself think that your job is anything more than satisfactory." Misaki stated firmly. She tried to pry out what pieces remained of the fourteen-year-old Ojou-Sama from within her, but there were few to be found. "It would appear that the ancient ways taught to me in Tokiwadai Middle School have faded. I will carry on without them; my everything deserves a nice, relaxing, pleasuring roleplay, and I will provide for him, as he provides for me everything that I could ever want."

This roleplaying scenario continued for close to two hours, and the movements of Touma's tongue were close to drawing another moan from Misaki.

"I know I'm not worthy, my Queen." Touma spoke; she could tell that he, too was on the verge of laughing. Still, Misaki could see, plain as day, just by looking below Touma's waist that he was having the time of his life. Misaki vocalized a snobbish "humph", and nodded.

"You're all fools! I quit! I don't know what a "Chinese finger trap" is, and I don't think I wish to become one! What in my name is wrong with you mortals?!" Othinus demanded from within Index's room, her voice full of irritation.

Kamijou Touma placed one final kiss to his wife's leg, kissed her other leg a single time, and then proceeded to scoop Misaki into his arms, chuckling as he did so. Misaki giggled as she rested her head against her husband's chest. She took her husband into her own embrace, and sighed contentedly.

"Thanks for playing along, beautiful. I… I needed that. I've been dying to just let it all out." Touma spoke, stretching, as he laid himself down on he and his wife's bed; she was subsequently laid down with him. Misaki didn't mind one bit; it was the perfect chance for the two to get rested for the weekend.

"You get so cuddly once you are satisfied. I love it, baby, and I love you. You are welcome, by the way. I always want to make you feel good. I want to make you feel like the prince that you are." Misaki lovingly replied. Touma smiled, and, with his left hand, squeezed his beloved wife's rear.

"The night has drawn to a close, and, though I crave for a long, satisfying lovemaking session, I feel we would both perform better on a full night's sleep, my prince. How do you feel about that?" Misaki inquired. Touma smiled warmly, and nodded in agreement; he seemed to be on the verge of passing out. "Yeah, beautiful. That… works for me. I love you too."

Misaki kissed her husband's chest, snuggled as closely to him as she could, and closed her eyes. Within mere seconds, Kamijou Touma had begun to softly snore, and, not long after, Kamijou Misaki, held so tightly in the powerful arms of Kamijou Touma, joined him in slumber.


	5. Pain and Pleasure

October 9th, 2014. 11:33 AM.

There was a terrible weight on his body, one that threatened to crush his thin, physically weak form if he didn't escape it immediately. Accelerator's eyes opened; slowly, Academy City's "top dog" blinked the crust from his eyes. He looked down, and, to his surprise, he found the sleeping form of Last Order.

Half of her was sprawled out over Accelerator's body, while the other half was snuggled into the couch. One of her legs hung over Accelerator's own, while the other dangled over the couch's adjacent arm. One of Last Order's arms was wrapped around Accelerator's thin, scrawny torso; the other curved awkwardly just above his head.

"I'm always waking up to one of you fucking brats…" The number one ranked esper complained, smiling thinly as he did so. He maneuvered his hand to Last Order's head, and gently ruffled the clone's hair. Last Order fidgeted in place, then snorted, but did not awaken.

Something in the crimson-eyed esper's higher mind didn't want him to rise up, but, he knew he had to. There were things to be done. Accelerator poked Last Order's cheek, and, when she still failed to awaken, he proceeded to gently chop her on the head.

"W… what? Where is MISAKA? Asks MISAKA MISAKA, confused, as she doesn't remember falling asleep here," Last Order mumbled.

"Fucking brat. Get off me," Accelerator complained. Last Order looked to Accelerator, and offered him a warm, adoring smile that melted the "top dog's" icy heart, though he would never admit that it did.

"MISAKA doesn't want to get up; MISAKA wants to stay with you… because… MISAKA is lazy, MISAKA MISAKA says, admitting to her own unhealthy behavior." Last Order responded with a giggle. She found herself being forced off, as Accelerator proceeded to gently, but repeatedly chop her head. Last Order, avoiding Accelerator's spindly legs, rose up from the couch, and shook her head about to toss her bangs from her eyes.

"Where's the other brat? I usually wake up with both of you clinging to me like a couple of fucking parasites," Accelerator mumbled, as he flicked his choker and sat up. He cracked his neck from side to side, and placed his hands on his knees. "Going to have to charge this stupid thing soon."

"MISAKA thinks that the inferior unit is in her room; MISAKA comes to this conclusion because she never saw the inferior unit come downstairs, MISAKA MISAKA theorizes using basic logic." Last Order said, her chin cupped in her hand as she rubbed it thoughtfully.

Accelerator's neck violently turned to face Last Order, his crimson eyes staring into Last Order's own. One of his snow white eyebrows rose higher than the other, and his left eye twitched.

"Last Order… did you see Worst's friend… leave?" Accelerator inquired, his teeth bared. Veins bulged on the back of Accelerator's neck, as his forehead began to throb.

"… MISAKA didn't see Yamashita-san depart last night… MISAKA MISAKA admits, fearing for the fate of Yamashita-san…" Last Order spoke quietly, her hands behind her back. She rocked back and forth awkwardly on her heels and toes.

Accelerator, with deadly intent, rose up from the couch. His face grew redder and redder by the second. Last Order took to her adoptive guardian's side, and took his hand in her own. Accelerator turned to the younger-elder clone, and saw the concern in her eyes, as he looked into them. Accelerator clicked his tongue in annoyance, and, as if soothed, Academy City's strongest took a deep breath; his scrawny torso sank inwards as he inhaled, and then expanded as he exhaled.

Climbing the stairs to the second floor of their home, Last Order and Accelerator looked to one another, and then to the door that lead into Worst's room. Last Order took the lead, and, with a mighty shove, burst into Worst's room like an Anti Skill officer leading a drug bust. The younger-elder clone stumbled, nearly tripping over her own feet in her grogginess. Accelerator, who stepped into Worst's room behind her, was less clumsy.

The two observed the scene laid out before them; Misaka Worst was passed out on, rather than within the covers of her bed, still clothed in the outfit she had changed into when she had gotten home the previous night. Laying on her stomach, Worst's legs dangled over the foot of the bed, a pillow was laying comfortably on her head, and she snored rather loudly. In the bed, Worst was alone.

"Tch… I'm checking the closet." Accelerator whispered. Last Order shrugged. "MISAKA was hoping that she and you would catch the inferior unit in a compromising situation, MISAKA MISAKA confesses, revealing her secret love for drama," Last Order mumbled, before she left the room. Accelerator heard the sounds of her sock-clad feet slapping against the staircase as he turned to the closet.

Ripping the closet's door open with a powerful yank, Accelerator peered inside. Various pieces of clothing, a faded, dust-covered Orders to Engage poster depicting a charging cyborg soldier, stacks of manga, none of which were wholesome, and a pile of Accelerator's old shirts, were contained within the closet; there were no pyrokinesists to be found.

"Tch. Fucking…"

"Ouh, tou-san! Misaka didn't think you were that jealous!"

Accelerator spun on his heel, teeth bared. Misaka Worst had awakened; she had rolled onto her side, and supported her head with her right arm, her hand pressed against the side of her head. Her left arm laid on her torso, and snaked down to her rear. Worst's fingers ran seductively over her posterior. Worst slowly, methodically rubbed her legs together, and raised her eyebrows.

"Worst, you fucking brat. Knock it off." Accelerator commanded. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, and moved towards the open door of Worst's room.

"Tou-san is sexually frustrated, and Misaka just wants to help! Tou-san knows he can use Misaka's womb whenever he wants; tou-san needs to stop being such a tsundere," Worst taunted.

Accelerator glared at Worst for a few moments, before he shook his head, and left, as Worst continued to taunt and tease him.

As he began to climb down the stairs, Worst swiftly emerged from her room, and was quick to take to his side. "Misaka should've figured this was the case; tou-san wants to invite the Control Tower, too! Misaka can suck you dry, while you eat the Control Tower's…"

"WORST!" Accelerator exclaimed angrily, chopping her gently on the head. "Shut it. Enough."

Worst cackled, loudly, planted a kiss on Accelerator's cheek before he could avoid her lips, and rushed past her adoptive guardian. She ran down the stairs, and turned into the doorway that lead to the kitchen.

Accelerator roughly ran his hand over the spot which Worst had kissed, and shook his head slightly, causing his snow white hair to flutter about. The feeling confused Accelerator. Academy City's "top dog" felt an odd twinge of… something deep in his gut.

As he descended the last step of the staircase, and turned into the kitchen, directly across from the television room, he found Worst, with a box of cereal, sitting at the table. The bag within the box that contained the cereal itself had been crudely torn open, and the box laid on its side. Worst looked up to Accelerator and flashed him a devilish grin, as she forced her arm into the bag. A few seconds of rummaging later, and her arm, along with her closed fist, filled with cereal emerged.

"Oi, brat. Where's the other one?" Accelerator inquired as he pulled out the chair directly across from Worst, and unceremoniously plopped himself onto its seat.

"The Control Tower went to the washroom, probably to purdy herself up. Misaka has always been superior to the Control Tower; Misaka doesn't need makeup," Worst remarked, as she shoved the handful of cereal into her mouth.

"Tch. Don't insult your fucking sister." Accelerator chastised.

"Tou-san is such a tou-san! AWWW!" Worst squealed, plunging her arm back into the cereal box to retrieve more.

Last Order knelt before the bathtub of her home's bathroom. Warm, relaxing water poured from the tap and over her chestnut brown hair, which hung in her face. Closing her eyes, Last Order proceeded to scrub the last of the shampoo from her hair. Aided by the stream of warm water, Last Order's fingers danced around her scalp, along the back of her neck, and, finally, behind her ears.

"By water be purged, MISAKA MISAKA exclaims enthusiastically, voicing her desire to have her hair fresh and clean!" Last Order spoke aloud to no one in particular, as the last of the pink, bubbly shampoo fled from her hair and into the bathtub. Turning off the tap, Last Order quickly reached behind her, and grasped onto the towel that sat on the toilet. As she wrapped it around her soaking wet hair, Last Order clothed herself in a fuzzy, light green housecoat that hung on the back of the bathroom's metallic door.

Last Order's phone, which sat in the first of three baskets of the nearby "bathroom necessities rack" buzzed. The elder-younger clone picked it up, unlocked it, and saw that a new text message had arrived from "Index K." Opening it, Last Order scanned her eyes over the message.

"Hey! Dork! Did you get my text? Answer back, please! I'm bored, Touma and Misaki are sleeping, and Othinus is in her house. Taaalkkkk ttooooo meeeeee!"

Last Order giggled, and scrolled up to see the previous night's message. The elder-younger clone raised an eyebrow at the topic of discussion, and she began to tap her fingers on the sink behind her. Once she had let the message's words sink in, Last Order began to form her own reply.

"u think? idk theres a lot of ppl (mostly girls) who want first savior but wont rly do nething cus second saviors a badass. whos the girl this time?"

Just as Last Order was about to place her phone down, another text message came; again, from "Index K".

"Nobody, not yet, at least. I'd just like to be prepared in case."

Last Order nodded in agreement, even if Index couldn't see it, and replied with a simple "kk". She slipped her feet into a pair of fluffy green slippers, which sat in the center of the mat beneath the sink. Opening the bathroom door and emerging, she made her way to the kitchen, with the intent of sating her body's sudden pleas for food.

"The Control Tower's here! Let's begin, tou-san!" Worst exclaimed, leaping up from her chair and pointing at her elder-younger sister.

"Worst, you're being a bigger goddamn brat than usual today. What the fuck's up with you?" Accelerator inquired; he leaned haphazardly against the backrest of his chair, one arm dangling behind the chair itself.

"Misaka's just trying to win tou-san's heart; if the Savior can get rid of his harem, you can get rid of yours, too!" Worst jabbed, breaking down into a cackling fest as she spat out the last words of her proclamation.

"What's this about harems? MISAKA MISAKA asks, inquiring as to the nature of Accelerator's conversation with the inferior unit," Last Order questioned as she sat herself down next to Accelerator. She crossed one leg over the other, and pulled the box of cereal in her direction, as Worst went to grab for it. Worst snarled defensively.

"Don't listen to Worst, she's being a fucking brat. I don't have a goddamn harem; but, yeah, I guess that stupid hero did get rid of all his girls, didn't he? It's almost surreal. How the fuck does he go from being "Kami-yan the Harem King" to being married to the fifth ranked? Still fucks me up. I guess it makes enough sense, if I give it a moment of thought. The fifth ranked just beat them all up… heh." Accelerator grumbled.

"That's the power of true love, MISAKA MISAKA states, in full support of the Saviors' relationship." Last Order spoke, with proudness in her tone of voice.

"Don't start with that shit, goddamn brat." Accelerator snapped. He pulled the cereal box to himself, yanking it away from Last Order, who had managed to gobble down three handfuls. Last Order pouted, and crossed her arms beneath her bosom as she produced an irritated "humph". Accelerator took a handful from the box, and dropped it into his open mouth.

Worst's phone buzzed in her shorts' pocket; she produced it, and looked at the screen as she unlocked the device. There was one new text message from "Minion #1".

"Worst! Lets go on the streets and tell people how much we love them. Ive got ideas. hmu asap."

Misaka Worst's lips curled into a sinister grin. She stuffed her phone back into the pocket of her shorts, and snatched the cereal box from her guardian, only to find that little more than crumbs remained in the box.

"Misaka's going to get freshened up, then Misaka's got places to be, tou-san, Control Tower. Don't have too much fun without Misaka!" Worst proclaimed, before she rose up from the table.

"You just woke up. Where the fuck are you going?" Accelerator demanded, in something of a growl. Worst shot Accelerator a look, proceeded to place her thumb against her forehead, and wiggled her fingers.

"Misaka's a grown woman, Misaka doesn't have to answer to tou-san! Misaka is strong and independent! Misaka's going to see her minion, if tou-san has to know. Don't fret! Misaka's womb belongs to tou-san," Worst stated, placing her hands on her hips.

Accelerator found himself feeling aggravated, for reasons he couldn't possibly begin to understand. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, and then shrugged with feigned indifference. "Whatever, brat. Let me know what you're getting into from time to time, or I'll fucking hunt you down."

Worst cackled, and offered Accelerator a flirtatious wave as she left the kitchen, hips swaying from side to side as she walked.

"Hey? Is there something wrong? Want to talk to MISAKA about it, MISAKA MISAKA offers, concerned by your behavior." Last Order whispered into her adoptive guardian's ear.

"Nothing you need to worry about, brat," Accelerator grumbled. His vision was glued to the table before him, and his left leg fidgeted. Last Order put her arm around her guardian's narrow shoulders, and rested her head on his shoulder. The towel that Last Order's hair was wrapped in brushed up against Accelerator's neck, and it made his body shiver slightly.

October 9th, 2014. 12:03 PM.

Kamijou Misaki's waking mind regained control over her body, as she became conscious. She listened unconsciously; her mind thought that she'd heard something. Misaki found herself held tightly in her husband's arms; as well, she found her own arms around her beloved's waist. The side of his face was nestled gently against the top of her head.

There was nothing to be heard, and so the young woman decided to take advantage of her situation. Misaki sighed, and snuggled closer to Touma's slumbering form. She felt the quick, rhythmic movements of his beating heart, and moved her head slightly, so that her ear was pressed up against her husband's chest. She listened to his heartbeat, and butterflies flew about in her lower torso. It was beating surprisingly fast, though it soon slowed down, back to the pace Misaki knew to be regular.

The young woman sighed contentedly. She cherished the moment in which she could feel her beloved soul mate's unclothed body against her own. Misaki kissed Touma's bare chest, and tightened her embrace.

"My prince." Misaki mumbled, as her eyes began to close again. In Touma's arms, her own body pressed against his warm, muscular form, Misaki could feel her eyes becoming heavy.

"M-Misa… ki…?... Misa… ki…!"

There was a deeply unsettling tone in Kamijou Touma's voice; Kamijou Misaki's eyes shot back open, and she felt dread well up on her chest. Her stomach twisted and writhed, and Misaki was consumed by panic. Something was wrong with her husband; his sleeping mind's unconscious words were filled with raw terror. The fear in her normally headstrong and unfaltering husband's voice was absolutely painful for Misaki to hear. Kamijou Misaki instantly knew what was happening, and swiftly sat up. Her head spun as she was pulled from the edge of consciousness.

"MI… saki… In… Oth… Nyaaauu?!" Another semi-conscious exclamation came from Touma's mouth.

"Baby! Baby, wake up. Precious, listen to me, I am right here, and I always will be! You are just dreaming," Misaki whispered into her husband's ear, gently slapping his cheeks with her hands. Misaki kissed her husband over and over, passionately smacking her lips against her beloved's, but he still seemed to be trapped in his unconscious prison. Misaki placed her hands on Touma's shoulders, and gave him a gentle shake. "Baby, wake up! I am right here, I am with you, please, listen to me! You are just dreaming!" Misaki hissed, panic rising within her. She gave Touma a thorough shaking, which, to her relief, roused him.

"MISAKI!" Touma yelled, as his eyes shot open. The young woman jumped, but reigned in her senses. Misaki peered into Touma's dark eyes, and saw how wild they looked. She saw the painful fear in them. Her husband panted, his arms were thrown around her form, and he pulled her close with great force. Misaki snuggled up to Touma, as closely as she could.

"Fuck… goddamn it… what… night… nightmare. Night terror. Ni-nightmare… terror. Daytime, sun's out, but… nightmare. Daymare. Only a dream, that's all. Wow, okay, that happened, but we're… we're here. No fire, no screaming, just us. Index and Othi-chan are… okay." Touma rambled.

"Sunshine, that is all it was; just a night terror! I am right here, baby. It is over, we will never allow anything to hurt our family. We are all safe," Misaki whispered comfortingly, as she rose back up. Touma's long, thick, violently shaking arms remained around her back. She placed a hand to her beloved's face, and softly ran her fingers over his cheek. As her thumb neared his lips, Touma kissed it. "Do you want to talk about it? What happened? What were you dreaming about?" Misaki pried.

"Can't really even think of a single thing that happened, outside of… little scattered bits, if we're talking about events… did it even have events? Beginnings, middles, ends? I can't quite… oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck yes I can! I'd rather not, I really don't want to, not right now… it was… it was us, not something you were doing, something being… can't, don't want to talk about it." Touma muttered. Misaki's heart broke as she heard the weakness in his speech, the tone of helplessness.

Kamijou Touma's grip tightened on his wife, the object of his complete undying adoration, a beautiful angel he had just witnessed suffering through unthinkable pain in a sickening night terror.

"It has been so long… what do you think brought this about? You seemed fine last night… I am fine, everything! It was just a terrible, terrible dream. If you do not want to talk about it, I will not push you to do so; if you feel like you want to, please, just tell me, and I will drop everything to listen to you," Misaki responded lovingly. Touma relinquished his grip, and let his arms fall away from his wife's body. He quickly took Misaki's available hand in to his own, his fingers interlocking with hers, and he held it as tightly as he could.

Misaki leaned in, removing her unavailable hand from Touma's cheek, and took her husband's other hand in her own. Misaki's nose connected with his, and Kamijou Misaki smiled warmly at Kamijou Touma.

"You are okay, and I am okay. Everyone in this house of peace and love is okay, everything." Misaki whispered in a soft, soothing tone of voice. "We live in a safe place, with many dedicated, devoted men and women to protect us; nothing is going to happen to our family, Kamijou Touma, you will not allow it, I will not allow it, and those we love and care for will not allow it."

Touma, his body still shaking, fought viciously against terror's forceful tugging on his mind. He curled his lips into a warm smile. "I know. I know, beautiful, it was all just in my stupid head, that's all. This is the real world, and everything's okay here! I mean, holy crap, how can everything NOT be okay? You're my wife, the woman I'm going to spend the rest of my life with, you're Kamijou Misaki and… you're just so sweet, and smart, and gorgeous and talented and… we do everything together, and I love it!

"You try to humor all of the stupid things I like, and our life together is just so happy and so much fun. I really appreciate you, Misaki. I appreciate you more than I can say, I… I just don't have the words, but, that's why I'm so afraid of something… h-happening to you. I love you!" Touma said, fully smiling with a sudden glee.

Misaki giggled as she watched her husband grin. Touma's wide eyes shrunk back to their normal size, and his breathing slowed to its regular pace once again; despite his body's continued, albeit lessened shaking, Touma had freed himself from the grip of suffering; the couple would not abide suffering's presence in their paradise.

"Everything, my prince, nothing is going to happen to me. I love you too, more than anything. Thank you, my beloved husband. You are such a strong person, Kamijou Touma, and, I appreciate you, and everything you do, have done, and will do for me, so, so much. I do not simply humor everything you like; I like everything you like! You have such a unique, special taste in everything! You are an intelligent, confident, powerful man, my one and only Kamijou Touma! You are completely unique, there is no other person in this world like you. Some may be similar, in one way or another, but they are not you, Kamijou Touma… my Kamijou Touma," Misaki responded. Her smile was wide and warm; her cheeks had taken on a pinkish red color.

Kamijou Touma got himself into a different position; the young man moved himself downwards, so that his head was close to his wife's bosom; his intentions seemed to be innocent enough. Misaki knew what Touma wanted, and she was more than happy to provide. Kamijou Misaki began to run her hands through Touma's hair with one hand, while the other found itself nestled where her husband's neck and shoulder met. Touma closed his eyes, and allowed himself to be treasured by his smiling, adoring wife. The couple stayed in this position for a while.

"Are you… down to cuddle, now that we're both up? You're feeling this, right? If you want to get up, we can, just let me know?" Touma inquired, as he rolled over, which caused Misaki to roll with him on their bed. Misaki giggled happily as she did so, and took her husband into her arms, as he did her.

"Of course I am. You know how much I love cuddling with you, and how cuddly you are." Misaki responded, as she buried her face in her husband's chest. Misaki nuzzled him; her lips made passionate, long kisses to Touma's bare skin, as Touma played with his wife's blonde locks.

"Cuddly? I guess you could say that. I just know that I like the feeling of having you all to myself, beautiful. I like the feeling of being able to look at you, and know that you're mine," Touma said softly, as he continued to play with his wife's hair.

"I am yours, baby. I belong to you. I want to make you feel better, my love, the way you have always make me feel better when I am not feeling well," Misaki whispered, smiling as she continued to kiss her husband's chest. Misaki moved upwards, and pressed her lips to Touma's right collarbone. Her lips came together, then parted, and came back together, her tongue ran over the skin of Touma's collarbone, swirling clockwise, and then counterclockwise, as her hands began to reach down to the bulging, fleshy device that had begun to poke her lower body.

It was then that a realization dawned on Kamijou Misaki. She felt embarrassed, ashamed, and selfish. "Baby, I am sorry, I do not want to push myself onto you; you have only just awoken from a terrible nightmare, and I am sure that you are not feeling up to being groped. My body got the better of me."

Touma chuckled, and placed his index finger and thumb to his wife's chin, gently raising her head up. Touma looked into her starry eyes, and watched them glow, as daylight danced over her gorgeous pupils. Misaki blushed, but said no more as her smiling soul mate stared into her.

"It's cool, beautiful. We're still chummy."

Misaki proceeded to take Touma's hand back into her own, and, for a while, the couple simply laid there like that, looking into one another's eyes, smiling warmly at each other, and basking in the radiance of their respective existences, as the sun's rays beamed down onto their unclothed forms. They'd occasionally blink, and once, Touma burped, which made Misaki laugh softly.

"Hey, beautiful." Touma eventually spoke up.

"Mm?" Misaki inquired, as she began to rub the tip of her nose against Touma's own.

"… 'member the time you, me, and Tsuchimikado threw rocks at Aogami?"

Kamijou Misaki nearly spat as a laugh was torn from her throat. She reminisced, not only on the horrified face of the, at the time, deserving Aogami Pierce, but of the amused, laughing faces of she, her boyfriend and the Magic Side double agent, along with the disapproving face of the chastising Fukiyose Seiri.

"Not really something the most Ojou of all the Ojou-Samas of the preeeeestigiouuuuus Tokiwadai Middle School should've been doing, huh?" Touma rhetorically asked as he laughed along with his wife, whose arms tightened around him. The warmth of her body, and the protection he felt when being held by Misaki was, to him, like magic beyond anything the "Other Side" could ever produce.

"Oh, please. You corrupted me long ago, Kamijou Touma," Misaki jokingly scolded. She began to blush yet again, and pecked her husband on the lips; but it became more than a peck. Kamijou Touma's tongue invaded Kamijou Misaki's mouth, forcing its way towards Misaki's own tongue. Thoughts of pleasure, and thoughts of undying love destroyed the floodgates of Kamijou Misaki's mind, and washed over her consciousness. Her hands rushed to Touma's hair, and as he moaned and panted in ecstasy, Misaki began to softly, and gently run her fingers through his hair, and over his scalp. Shivers travelled down Touma's spine as he felt his lover's touch.

Like a gargantuan, serpentine beast emerging from a cavernous hole in the earth, Touma's tongue writhed against Misaki's own. The two serpents of flesh clashed and wrapped around one another, as Kamijou Misaki moaned as quietly as she possibly could, lost deep in the throes of pleasure.

Touma's body shivered nonstop, and his hands ran over his beloved partner's body, from top to bottom, as far as his arms could reach. Below the waist, Touma throbbed, and he felt the instinctual desire to fuse with his adored one. Touma forced his way on top; Misaki willingly followed his lead and rolled onto her back, but Touma didn't seem to be satisfied. Planting both hands adjacent to either side of her body, against their bed, Touma held himself over Misaki's form.

"Misaki, beautiful, are you in the mood for…"

"Yes, Touma, you… my… handsome, perfect, wonderful man, if you are, I am! I want you hard, I want you rough, and I want you as deep as you can possibly go. I want you so deep, I want to feel you throb for me. I want you to make love to me, and I want to make love to you, on this morning; I want you to FUCK me, Kamijou Touma. I want you to…"

Misaki was lifted from the bed by Touma, who scooped her up into his powerful arms; to Touma, she was as light as a feather. Lifting her hardly felt like he was lifting anything at all, even if Misaki was as large, and as powerfully built as he was.

"O-oh my… where are we going, my prince?" Misaki inquired. She allowed her arm to hang limp, and titled her head back, as Touma held her bridal style, the image of complete relaxation and trust. "I would not mind if you carried me around like this more often, everything. This is idyllic."

"All you have to do is ask, you're my Queen, after all. Heh. We're not going anywhere, not until someone says "stop," Touma answered. Gently, and cautiously, Touma lowered Misaki back to the bed, though Misaki found herself laying flat on her belly. Touma left the bed temporarily; he opened, and then reached into he and his wife's bedroom's closet. He dug around momentarily, until he emerged with protection, which he would armor himself with; Touma looked to Misaki, and offered her a warm smile before he began to work himself into his suit of armor.

"Ah, I see what you were planning, Kamijou Touma. You wanted your woman in a particular position. You turn me on so much. I will get my wish, then? Husband of mine, do not keep me wai…"

Misaki quickly forced her face into her pillow; she began to grit her teeth as she felt the euphoric riptide of forceful, natural, savage pleasure overtake her body. Kamijou Misaki's heart leapt into her throat, her eyes widened, and her lips quivered, as she and her husband became one. Into her pillow, Misaki began to moan and scream in pleasure, as she was savagely overtaken.

Misaka Worst was far from an inconspicuous person; she darted across the skies, high above the towering skyscrapers, apartments and condominiums of Academy City. Continuously detonating the oxygen around her form in order to keep afloat, Worst sought her quarry, which dwelled in school district seven. Her airborne adventure came to a close when she spotted the apartment complex she knew her quarry dwelled in.

Worst allowed herself to fall from the sky; the wind slashed at her body, and violently tossed her hair about. As well, it caused her shirt to flutter and rise up, exposing her naval. Worst laughed loudly, as if she was having the time of her life as she freefell. Before her body made unceremonious contact with the ground, Worst got her electromaster ability into gear, and, using nearby magnetisable structures as leverage, stopped falling moments before she hit the earth. Floating in the air, Worst continued to laugh; her sides began to hurt as she slowly spun in place.

After her laughing fit settled down, Worst's trainer-clad feet touched the ground. She tossed her head back, causing her chestnut brown locks to fall behind her, as she began to walk, even as herds of passersby looked at her with odd, confused facial expressions, having witnessed her interesting entrance, and her even more interesting behavior that followed.

Misaka Worst checked for the presence of, and then removed her phone from her pocket; the fact that it somehow managed to remain snuggly within her shorts' pocket surprised Worst. Worst scrolled through her contacts list until she found Accelerator's contact information, which was located under a profile referred to as "Fuckbuddy". Worst began to compose a message.

"TOU-SAN! Im in dstrc 7. you should b here! Im going 2 become a stripper!"

Worst giggled to herself, her lips curling into a devious grin as she began to text "Minion #1".

"Minion Im close by. cum meet me."

Before Worst had the chance to pocket the device again, the phone vibrated in the palm of her hand. She looked down at the device's screen, and scanned the message she had received.

"comin. The park? Josephs is prolly full of dumbass kids rn."

Worst silently agreed, a headache forming at the thought of having to look at not only one, but multiple insolent, loud, stupid pink goblins. The idea appalled Worst, and though she'd never admit it, she was more than glad that her loyal minion disliked children as much as she did. It made their business relationship much more convenient. The evil-minded clone of Misaka Mikoto, the third strongest esper in Academy City, began to form a reply, fingers tapping against her phone's screen.

"yea." It was simple, efficient, and to the point.

Misaka Worst soon arrived at the aforementioned park; it wasn't particularly large, only a small patch of grass, flowers, and benches that were arranged in the shape of a square just out of the way of the hustle and bustle of school district seven. Surrounded by a wall of delicately, and beautifully trimmed hedges, the small park might've been a spot where romance could potentially bloom – but on this day, there was no romance in that place, only PRANK.

Sitting on a bench that faced away from Worst, Yamashita Junichi sat. His right leg was supported by his left knee, and his elbows leaned casually over the bench's backrest's edge. His head was tilted back ever so slightly, as he looked up to the cloudless blue sky.

"BOO!" Worst exclaimed, which caused the pyrokinesist to start; all casualness lost. He leapt up from the bench, and shook his fist at his "boss". Worst looked him over – he hadn't worn his red uniform; instead, he'd worn a baggy, short-sleeved lime green shirt, which was tucked into a pair of dark blue denim jeans. He wore a pair of light, but not quite lime green and silver, high top shoes.

"Damnit, Worst! I should've been expecting this from you… you got me, I guess. I'll get you back, just you wait!" Junichi exclaimed, panting lightly.

"Be glad it was just Misaka, and not an eeeevil researcher who wanted to scoop you up and turn you into a big monster," Worst commented. The pyrokinesist laughed awkwardly in response, and then softly coughed.

"Yeah… wouldn't that've been funny?"

For a split second, Misaka Worst saw signs of weakness in the usually happy-go-lucky pyrokinesist named Yamashita Junichi. The cool, confident façade cracked momentarily, as if he had been struck by a powerful blow. Before Worst could take not only the oddness of the situation into account, but also the fuzzy memories that surfaced, Yamashita Junichi shook his head, and offered a genuine, mirthful chuckle.

"So – Worst, hear me out here. I had an idea, but I also wanna hear what you have to say. I was thinking, just after I left your place last night, about the underground mall…" Junichi looked behind him, then to his left, and to his right. He motioned for his "boss" to sit with him on the bench, as he sat down himself. Worst shrugged, and, wringing her hands malevolently, did so without so much as a second of hesitation.

"Don't want anyone hearing about this, and running off to play hero… if we're going to PRANK a whole bunch of people, we need to be discreet about it, cover our tracks, silence witnesses. Having a mental ability user would be nice for that. Know anyone off hand?" Junichi said, leaning forward and clasping his hands.

"Misaka knows someone, but she's a goodie two-shoes. She'd never help us, and she'd never use her ability unless she had to. Misaka thinks she's a bit of a stuck in the mud," Worst replied, spitting into the grass after she forcibly cleared a wad of phlegm from her throat.

"Yeah… no way that's going to work; we need someone who knows how to have some good, clean fun. That's okay though; it's not necessary. We can just be sneaky about it, and avoid getting caught. So, here's my idea. We don't really need much else besides our abilities. You still feeling the underground mall, Worst?" Junichi asked, as he gave her a sly grin. Worst grinned back as she rang her hands together maliciously.

"Misaka's feeling it; Misaka's also impressed by your enthusiasm, minion. It's good to see you taking initiative, and not just leaving all the planning to Misaka," Worst answered.

"So – the mall's got lots of sprinklers on the ceilings, that'll activate at the slightest trace of smoke. Smoke is something I can make happen, or, alternatively, you could zap something, too, but I can make smoke inconspicuously.

"I'll cut to the chase; you can zap any backup generators into oblivion, knock out the power with your ability, I can run a trail of smoke through the mall, activating as many sprinklers as I can; everyone's going to get completely soaked! Day equals ruined! Tight shit, right?"

A singular tear ran down Misaka Worst's eye, as she sniffled slightly. Worst ran her index finger across her right eye, and then her left.

"M-minion… that's the most… beautiful thing Misaka's ever heard… Misaka loves it. Soon, all of Academy City will know PRANK's name, minion! We'll bring inconvenience and irritation wherever we go!" Worst proclaimed in response as she rose up from the bench. Worst snapped her fingers, and the ever-faithful minion Yamashita Junichi rose up as well, stretching his arms behind his head.

"Grab onto Misaka; Misaka will get us where we need to go, and fast," Worst stated. "Don't grab there, though, minion! Those are for tou-san." Worst pointed to her bosom, and Junichi shook his head disapprovingly as he reluctantly grasped her hand in his. Worst shot the young man a menacing grin, and proceeded to detonate the oxygen around their forms; the small park's benches were blown away by the force, and a terrible force blew over the grass, rustling it.

As Worst jumped around in the sky, continuously detonating oxygen and bringing the writhing Yamashita Junichi closer and closer to projectile vomiting, her vision fell upon two clashing forms in the distance. Worst couldn't quite make out what they were supposed to be, but, from one, she saw currents of electricity jump wildly. From the other, there were colorful, blindingly bright explosions.

"Misaka's going to get closer, minion! Hang tight!" Worst proclaimed as she changed direction mid-air and created a new series of detonations. Junichi didn't respond; he had long ago stopped trying to speak, or even think. He was focused entirely on survival.

Misaka Worst and her minion grew closer and closer, until Worst could make out basic features of the two individuals, who she came to be able to recognize as combatants, who fought on an open, grassy field just a short jog away from the urban hustle and bustle of school district seven's core housing, schools and facilities. Worst thought it odd that a crowd of onlookers hadn't formed. A long, powerful-looking lance of jumping, crackling blue lightning emerged from one. As it was thrust outwards with deadly precision, it was punched away by the other. The lightning didn't dissipate upon touching them; rather, it seemed to bend and break against the sheer, overwhelming gutsiness of his blow.

Worst's eyes narrowed as she detonated one last time, and began to freefall. Yamashita Junichi's eyes widened, and he began to scream in panic. The pyrokinesist's heart pounded violently inside of him, and he felt as if he was on the verge of fainting.

"WORST! WHY ARE WE FALLING?! YOU MANIAC!" Yamashita Junichi shrieked in raw terror, as his gums flapped, and his teeth were exposed. The pyrokinesist felt like his face was going to be torn from his skull, as the wind ravaged it, and ripped at his hair.

"SHUT UP, MINION! IT'S FUN! MISAKA WON'T LET YOU DIE! PROBABLY!" Worst exclaimed in response, as she laughed like a madwoman. Worst's behavior was of little comfort to the pyrokinesist.

Just before the two could splatter into a pile of blood, guts and gore, Misaka Worst reached out with her ability and, using structures as leverage, levitated, her body mere feet from the ground. Loose electricity jumped from her form as she looked down at her panting friend with sinister glee. She let Junichi's hand go, and he dropped to the ground in a shuddering heap, his hands lovingly stroking the grass beneath him.

Worst began to approach the two sparring combatants, one of whom she immediately recognized to be someone fairly close to her. In fact, in a manner of speaking, one of the combatants was her.

"Onee-Sama! Why are you out here causing trouble, and generally being a delinquent?" Worst demanded, her hands placed firmly on her hips.

"Eh?!"

Misaka Mikoto spun on her heel, and faced Misaka Worst. Worst looked her elder sister up and down, and nodded her head in apparent approval. Mikoto's shoulder-length hair fell to her upper torso gracefully, even if she had found herself in the midst of a brawl.

Mikoto's figure was elegant and curvy; her body had a natural hourglass shape, and, her bosom was nothing to scoff at, much to the Railgun's pleasure. Mikoto wore a black, short sleeved top, that was somewhat, but not terribly wrinkled, suggesting that it'd possibly been thrown on as spur of the moment choice, a pair of tight-fitting, hemmed blue jeans, and black trainers that matcher the color of her shirt. In her hair, she wore a small pin that was shaped to resemble Gekota, her beloved frog mascot, something that was, for all intents and purposes, intended for small children. Worst wasn't above pointing this out.

"Onee-Sama still likes Gekota?! Onee-Sama needs to grow up, and become a real woman, like Misaka," Worst said tauntingly, as she pointed to her own, considerably larger bosom. Worst shot the original a malicious glare, accented with a wide, nefarious grin.

"M-Misaka-san… hey…" Junichi groaned; having risen to his feet, the pyrokinesist's body felt more like rubber than flesh and bones. "Never gonna get used to being flown around like that."

"Yamashita-san? Hi! it's kind of a bad time, I was just trying to give Guts Man here a run for his money. I'm glad to see you're with Worst, I thought she was alone until I saw you down there. Speaking of which, are you feeling okay?" Mikoto inquired, as she turned away from her offended-looking sparring partner.

"Fine, just fine…" Junichi lied, still struggling to shake off his nausea.

"You can't just turn away from a skirmish! In the heat of battle, only adrenaline and GUTS can keep you on your feet!" Mikoto's opponent proclaimed, fist held outwards. "Kamijou – both of them, would never turn away from a skirmish!"

"If you were in a "skirmish" with Touma or Misaki, you'd be out like a light," Mikoto teased. "It still feels so weird to say that, even all these years later. The Misaki I knew growing up could barely run down the street, now she's lifting weights and practicing MMA? I guess people change, but it's all kinda funny."

"People change, yes! The nature of glorious combat, of competition never changes! It's a constant!" Came her opponent's reply.

Worst, realizing that she had found herself out of the loop, took a moment to look over her elder sister's "foe". His short, dark hair reminded Worst of Kamijou Touma's hair, when it wasn't spiked, and he was clad in a strange-looking outfit; a bright, attention-grabbing red top, with knee-length shorts of the same color. On his feet, he wore bright red and white shoes that would've looked more at home on a basketball court than on the streets of Academy City. The feature that stood out the most, however, was the long, red cloak he wore on his back; the cloak was fastened around his neck with a loose-fitting metallic choker. The cloak fluttered behind him, even though there was no breeze to be seen.

"Sogiita-san…" Mikoto grumbled, as she turned back to face her opponent, a slightly annoyed look on her face. "Chew on this."

"Sogiita Gunha isn't here! There is only the Extraordinary Guts Man in the heat of conflict!" The superhero exclaimed.

Mikoto stomped her foot against the grassy earth, creating a breeze that ruffled the blades of grass around her form. Electricity jumped from the Railgun's body, as she extended her hands, and held them a few feet apart from one another.

Mikoto's opponent crossed his arms, and watched on as she gathered the electricity that emerged from her form into a circular mass that expanded as more and more resources were poured into it. In one swift movement, Mikoto hurled the mass as if it was a bowling ball, and her opponent was a bowling pin waiting to be knocked over.

"Your ability is impressive as always, and you have every reason to be proud of what you've accomplished, but, you are no match for… The Extraordinary Guts Man!"

In a motion as swift as Mikoto's own, the crackling orb of electricity was punched. The globule of bright blue lightning was knocked away by the Extraordinary Guts Man's fist of fury, sent flying into the air as if it were little more than a beach ball.

"… Are we done?" Yamashita Junichi inquired, as he poked the back of Worst's head, then rushed away before she was able to slap his hand away. "Quit touching Misaka, minion…" Worst complained.

"No! Absolutely not! It's your turn to show me your guts! Since this is the first time we've met, we have to grow to know each other better; and what better way to do that than to battle?!" The Extraordinary Guts Man inquired, as he pumped his fist enthusiastically.

Junichi shrugged indifferently, and Misaka Worst began to grin malevolently. Mikoto looked to her younger, biologically older sister, and shuddered slightly. Regardless of Worst's mannerisms, Mikoto made her way over to Worst; with the Extraordinary Guts Man distracted, she could get a moment of rest.

"Hi, Worst. I haven't seen you in a while. Sorry about not being able to call, things are a little bit hectic these days," Mikoto spoke, smiling warmly at her devilish sister, who didn't seem to be concerned.

"Misaka doesn't mind; Misaka knows Onee-Sama spends most of her days getting into trouble with her lady-friend."

As Mikoto began to blush, while Worst pointed at the spectacle and laughed, Junichi had begun to close the distance between himself and the Extraordinary Guts Man.

"If you insist. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up; if you can go toe-to-toe with Misaka-san, I'm more than likely not much of a match for you. Just a level three pyrokinesist."

Worst swiftly intervened, standing between her minion and the Extraordinary Guts Man, arms outstretched. "Minion! We have work to do; we don't have time to beat up Onee-Sama's side man!" Worst exclaimed. She grabbed Junichi by the scruff of his neck, and, with a forceful detonation of oxygen, she took off, leaving behind a ranting Extraordinary Guts Man and a bewildered Misaka Mikoto.

October 9th, 2014. 1:54 PM.

Kamijou Touma rose up from he and his wife's bed with a stretch and a subsequent groan of pleasure. Both he and his wife, equally satisfied with the way their morning had turned out, despite the initial scare, had gotten dressed. Kamijou Misaki was clad in a white, baggy tank top that exposed her well muscled arms, and a pair of equally baggy gray sweatpants. Misaki's long, blonde hair was tied up in an elegant knot. Touma had changed into a dark blue, tight-fitting button-up shirt that was halfway done up, with a plain white shirt beneath it, and loose-fitting, comfortable khaki shorts.

"How are you feeling, sunshine? Okay?" Misaki inquired, as the two left their paradise side by side, and stepped out into the hallway that lead to their apartment's living room.

"Relieved, for one, but, mentally… okay, I guess? As much as I hate keeping things from you, I think I'd rather just let this one fade off on its own, if that's cool," Touma replied, stretching.

"Of course! You can talk to me about it when, and if you feel comfortable with talking about it. No trouble, baby." Misaki said warmly, rising up on her tiptoes and pecking her husband on the cheek. She stumbled and nearly fell, but was quickly caught in Touma's arms. Misaki giggled as Touma helped her regain her lost balance.

"There they are!" Index's stated, as she looked up from the couch. Index had changed from her Walking Church into something more casual, at some point during the morning. Index wore a white blouse, whose short sleeves were elegantly lacy, and white jean shorts that greatly accented Index's curvy adult body. The nun was sprawled out on the couch, one of her legs nonchalantly crossed over the other. On her belly sat Othinus, who appeared to be scrolling through something on Index's phone.

"Ah, yes. The jackrabbits. The nun and I believed Academy City to be experiencing an earthquake, until I realized that your bedroom was the only room shaking," Othinus explained.

"It's okay, though. We both know you guys love one another, and that's one of the ways lovers show it, RIGHT, OTHINUS?" Index practically growled, a vein throbbing in the normally composed nun's forehead.

"O-of course," Othinus mumbled as she struck Index's ribcage with her elbow. Index's scowl faded, and she began to giggle and kick her legs as Othinus' tiny bones continuously made contact with her flesh, as if it tickled.

"I… uh…" Touma muttered, but Misaki wrapped her arm around her husband's, and held her head high. "Hush, One-Eyed Menace. We both apologize if things got… out of hand, but Touma had a rough morning, and needed a distraction."

"Rough morning?" Index inquired, concern becoming evident in her eyes. Othinus' attitude seemed to switch gears, as well. Both turned their heads to look to their guardians.

"What was the issue?" Othinus pried, as she stood up on Index's belly, arms crossed, her tiny head cocked to one side.

"Scoot over, Index?" Touma asked as he and Misaki moved towards the couch. The nun smiled and nodded, as she sat herself up, scooping Othinus into her hands to ensure that she wouldn't be disorientated. Placing the tiny former Magic God on her shoulder, Index welcomed her guardians as they sat next to her.

"Nightmare, or night terror, or something. Haven't had one in… months? Years? I don't really know what brought it on, but it was… horrible. I already talked to Misaki about it, but I don't want to talk too much about what happened when it was happening, when I was, y'know, dreaming," Touma explained, as Misaki took his hand into hers. Othinus, who sat on Index's shoulder, looked down at the floor that was so far away from her tiny feet.

"Touma…?"

"Nah, Othi-chan. It wasn't anything like that, I promise."

Othinus gave a sigh of relief, and smiled thinly. "You'd best not be lying to me," the former Magic God warned.

"I don't do that stupid shit anymore; I did that when I was a dumb kid. It's not just about me anymore, is it? You're my family. I can't lie to you, any of you. It'd eat me up inside if I did, and I'd eventually end up cracking," Touma responded with a small chuckle of genuine mirth.

Index snuggled closer to Touma's right side, while Misaki nuzzled further into his left. With her right hand in Touma's left, Misaki took Index's into her own left, and offered her pinky to Othinus. The former Magic God turned her face away in scorn initially, but sooner than later broke down, leapt down from Index's shoulder, and took Misaki's left pinky into her small hand.

"Maybe you could talk a little bit about what it was like? Just a little? It sometimes helps to talk about these things, get them off your chest," Index suggested.

"Thanks, Index… maybe sometime later. Just thinking about talking about what I saw makes me feel pretty sick, to be honest. I know it's not real, in the sense that it happened, is happening, or is going to happen, but it felt so real. I could feel everything, see everything… hear everything," Touma rambled.

"That's okay! Listen, why don't we do something to distract you; something more family-friendly! I guess what you and Misaki do is family-friendly, but in a very different way. I'm hungry! Touma, make us something for breakfast… or is it lunch, at this hour? Brunch!" Index proclaimed, shooting up from the couch excitedly. Touma laughed heartily, Misaki softly giggled, and even Othinus gave a small smirk.

"Okay, how does this sound; I'll make my poor, starving family something to chow down on, and then we go travel the lands in search of adventure," Touma offered, as he pecked his wife on the forehead. Misaki blushed, and proceeded to repay the favor in kind.

"I'll pass," Othinus spoke up. "I have unfinished business to attend to; I was "surfing" the Internet in an attempt to discover what being a "Chinese finger trap" entails, and I am anything but amused. The mortals will pay for their sacrilege."

"You sure, Othi-chan? I think it'd be fun if you came along," Touma said, a smile on his face.

"Come along, Othinus. "The mortals" are not going anywhere, I am certain that your vengeance can wait another day. You are part of this family, and we like it when you do things with us." Misaki added, a motherly warmness in her tone of voice.

"Come on, Othinus! Don't be laaaaame!" Index exclaimed, crossing her arms beneath her bosom as she pouted.

The former Magic God sighed in irritation, and ran her little fingers through her golden locks. "Annoying, persistent mortals… family… very well; but just this once. After this, you'll leave me to my own devices."

Kamijou Misaki, Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Index laughed together, and Othinus uncharacteristically followed suit, chuckling lightly, a warm, content smile on her face.

"These people, these humans, my unlikely family, are my happiness."


	6. On the Horizon

The Extraordinary Guts Man threw his fists; each crashed against the Railgun's currents of electricity. As he beat them back, he took the few seconds of breathing time he had to knock away twin, continually jabbing lances, born of lightning, by slamming his forehead against them.

"Why not unleash your full potential, Misaka?! Show me how you've improved your signature ability!" The Extraordinary Guts Man challenged, a finger pointed in Misaka Mikoto's direction.

"This is karma for all the times I chased that Idi… Touma, around when we were kids, isn't it?" Mikoto grumbled as she shook her head. "The last time I used my Railgun on you, you just… ate it."

"Improve, Misaka! IMPROVE! Adjust your technique so that I can't eat your blasts, and add them to my stockpile of guts!" The Extraordinary Guts Man demanded, as he folded his arms, and cracked his neck, forcing it to one side, and then to the other.

Misaka Mikoto, the Railgun, the third strongest esper in all of Academy City, focused solely on her sparring partner. Her brow furrowed, and she scrunched her nose. Mikoto unconsciously ran her tongue over her bottom lip as she concentrated. Mikoto could hear the lightning emerging from her form, crackling, completely under her command. Mikoto could see it, and feel it surround her.

With a grin, Misaka Mikoto raised her leg upwards, and then stomped the earth. An electric tide, four point five billion volts worth of bright blue electricity made physical rushed from Mikoto's upper body. It easily covered fifty meters of space before it began to twist and contort. It began to retract into a singular 'pillar' as Mikoto's waving hands guided it, and, with pinpoint accuracy, it surged towards the smiling, confident-looking Extraordinary Guts Man.

In a series of motions far too quick for Mikoto's mind to comprehend, the Extraordinary Guts Man stomped his right foot, and, with his eyes closed, entered an odd, almost intimidating-looking stance. As his eyes shot open with a swift exhalation of oxygen converted to carbon dioxide, he threw his right fist forward.

"SUPER EXTRAORDINARY PUNCH!"

Mikoto wasn't able to see the exact outcome; she had closed her eyes just after her mind had registered a series of blindingly bright explosions that had combined with her own all-out assault. The Railgun had assumed that, if she had left her eyes open, she would've likely been blinded.

Before her, breathing ever so slightly heavier than he normally would've been, with a wide, toothy grin on his face, stood the Extraordinary Guts Man. He tossed his head back, and laughed heartily.

"What did I tell you?! Improvement! Glaringly obvious improvement! That was your gutsiest strike on me yet!" The Extraordinary Guts Man exclaimed, as he nodded his head in satisfaction.

Mikoto giggled softly, a blush evident on her cheeks. Suddenly, she spun on her heel, and allowed herself to fall back onto the grass, which, around and near her form, hadn't been charred as the grass around the Extraordinary Guts Man had been.

"Tired already?! You've got five minutes, Misaka, and then it's back in the ring!" The Extraordinary Guts Man proclaimed, slapping the top of his right hand against the palm of his left.

"You've got it, coach," Mikoto scoffed as she spread her arms out, letting the soft, gentle blades of grass run their fine tips against her mostly bare arms.

Mikoto lifted her neck upwards, and raised an eyebrow at the perpetually staring Extraordinary Guts Man.

"Why don't you come over here and sit with me, instead of just… glaring at me? I'd like to talk to Sogiita-san, please and thank you!" Mikoto commented, before the strain on her neck became too much. Letting her head fall back to the grass, Mikoto blinked, and looked up at the sky above her. It momentarily disorientated her, and she almost felt as if she'd be sucked up into the sky against her own will. Mikoto shook her head, and the strange, fuzzy feeling that had formed in the bottom of her stomach away.

The Extraordinary Guts Man's facial expression softened, as the alter ego faded. Sogiita Gunha took over the reigns of his body once again, and, with a laugh, he leapt to the Railgun's side. Gunha pushed his cape away from his posterior, and then plopped down on the grass with a soft thud.

"So? Are we finished, or do you have any more guts left in you, Misaka?" Gunha inquired, as he looked down at the Railgun, who had folded her arms behind her head.

"Given that we were at it all morning, I think I'm all out of guts, at least for the time being, Sogiita-san," Mikoto replied.

Gunha flashed Mikoto an expression of shock and disgust. "Out of guts?! Impossible! Guts are an infinite, constantly regenerating resource, Misaka! You can't run out of guts!"

Mikoto shook head from side to side, "maybe for you, Sogiita-san, but the rest of us run out of guts eventually." Before Gunha had the chance to respond, the Railgun sat up, and, supporting her upper body with her arms, hands planted against the grass behind her, she smiled at him. "By the way, Sogiita-san, I wanted to say thanks, again, for helping me keep up my A game."

Gunha looked on, bewildered. "You don't have to thank me, Misaka! The pleasure's all mine; helping people is what I do, especially when it comes to guts! Guts are important! Without guts, a man, or in your case, a woman is… incomplete! Everyone needs guts, and, since I find myself in a position where I can help people find their guts, there's no reason not to!"

"You and your guts, I swear," Mikoto mumbled. After the third and seventh strongest espers in Academy City had sat, surrounded by the sounds of a comfortable silence for a few minutes, some type of bug landed on Mikoto's jeans. It was small, only three or four inches in length, and was mostly white. Gunha noticed the insect, and examined it. The insect vaguely resembled a beetle; it had tiny, translucent compound eyes on either side of its head. As its wings folded into its shell, its six long, spiny legs clicked about. It looked to Sogiita Gunha, who raised an eyebrow at it, and then to Mikoto, who didn't seem to see it.

Gunha tapped Mikoto on the shoulder, which gained her attention. He then pointed to her leg. "Hey, Misaka, there's a… a weird bug on you. I've never actually seen anything like that before. I wonder if it has guts?!"

Mikoto looked down at it, and sighed in aggravation.

"I have, Sogiita-san…"

Mikoto picked the bug up between the index finger and thumb of her right hand, and raised it up to her line of sight. The insect didn't panic, nor did it even move. Its compound eyes simply stared back at the Railgun.

"We're sparring, you overprotective mother hen! Don't you have better things to do than spy on people? Honestly… I mean, I guess the thought is a kind one… but would Sogiita-san really hurt anyone? Come on, be real." Mikoto proceeded to flick the insect away; its wings emerged from its shell, and it took flight, leaving the third and seventh ranked behind to pursue some unknown goal.

"What was…"

"Kakine-san," Misaka Mikoto huffed, as she folded her arms, and tossed her head to the side.

Misaka Worst, accompanied by her ever-loyal minion Yamashita Junichi, had sat themselves on a cold, metallic, but thankfully, for the sake of their scheme, vacant bench a few meters from the entrance to school district seven's underground shopping center. Shielded from the elements by a tall, wide shelter built from extremely durable plastic, and weather-resistant metal produced only in Academy City, the entrance was more of a hole that opened in the street, which revealed a set of wide metallic and brick steps. The entrance to the mall was particularly crowded, as herds of excited shoppers flooded in and out from the subterranean temple dedicated to consumerism.

"Can you feel anything around here, Worst? Backup generators, non-backup generators?" Junichi whispered. He stared down at his phone, which was locked, though he tapped his fingers against the screen to emulate the act of forming a text message.

"Misaka is receiving information about all sorts of interesting things, minion, but no generators. Misaka thinks they might be elsewhere, maybe in district twenty-two? Misaka knows they keep all sorts of dirty secrets underground there," Worst responded. She had a slightly frustrated look on her face.

Junichi wracked his brain, looking for some way he could make he and his "boss'" plan come to fruition – numerous ideas passed through the pyrokinesist's mind, but none of them seemed to be "the one". At one point during his on-the-fly brainstorming session, the pyrokinesist contemplated simply starting a fire, but he quickly scrapped the idea, internally citing the many ramifications of such an act.

"Misaka's got something, minion! Don't fret!" Worst hissed, struggling to keep her voice down in her excitement. "Misaka will find a place to hide, and then just let her ability go wild, the way Misaka's going to go wild on tou-san. Misaka assumes that if she discharges enough electricity, the mall's guts, that is, the wires and sensitive electronics inside of the walls, will get fried! The mall will lose power for a while, maybe a few days at most, but Misaka knows that'll work."

Though Yamashita Junichi had kept at least part of his mind focused on Worst's explanation, another part, the nefariously male part of his mind, had found a new source of entertainment. Walking past him was what appeared to be an elegant, if aggressive-looking beauty. Junichi's hungry eyes looked her up and down; she was tall, and looked to owe most of her height to her long, slender legs. Long, fluffy black hair, the tips of which had been dyed blonde, was tied in a messy ponytail that caressed her neck, and fell to her left breast. She was clad in an extremely tight-fitting, light yellow, tank top that just barely covered her naval, and high-waisted denim shorts to match.

As she strode towards the entrance to the underground mall, the elegant young woman caught the form of the lustful onlooker, who had been far from the first, in her peripheral vision. Frustration flowed through the young woman, and, suddenly stopping in her tracks, she turned to face the ogler.

"Is there something you need? Or are you just going to fucking size me up?" The young woman snarled, as she cocked her head to the side, causing her bangs to flop with it.

"Don't mind me. Window shopping, is all," Junichi responded nonchalantly.

The young woman said nothing more. She simply cleared her throat, spat onto the ground near the ogler's feet, and, with a rude gesture and an exclamation of "fuck yourself," she continued on her way.

"Well… okay, that was a thing that just happened," Junichi commented, as he shrugged in Worst's direction.

"Misaka doesn't understand; Misaka loves it when she catches tou-san eying her up, why did bitchface get so mad? Misaka means, you're ugly, minion, but not THAT ugly! Not ugly enough to deserve a response like that!" Worst responded, as she put her arm around her minion, and patted his left shoulder with her right hand.

"Thanks, Worst. That's the confidence boost I needed," Junichi grumbled.

"No problem; Misaka watches out for her minions. Now, didn't you and Misaka have some PRANKing to do? Do you approve of Misaka's suggestion?" Worst prodded, as she crossed one leg over the other, and began to impatiently fidget.

Junichi chuckled to himself more than in response to Worst's inquiry, as he clasped his hands, and leaned forward. He continued to observe the crowds; they were all so happy-looking, so full of life. Junichi knew that would soon change.

"What, zapping the mall up? Yeah, it'll work; it'll be a bit overboard, but it'll work. I guess, now, overboard is good, though. I want to see the look on trust fund baby's face when she gets sprayed down with water, along with everyone else… everyone in that mall is going to be extremely inconvenienced. They'll be annoyed for, at the very least, a couple of hours… perfect."

Worst nodded in satisfaction. She uncrossed her legs, and rose up from the bench. Junichi followed suit, and, giving Worst a playful shove, he passed her by. Electricity leapt from the nefarious clone of Misaka Mikoto as she grinned at his walking form.

Walking down the metallic stairs, which were flanked by dark brown, almost reddish bricks on either of their ends, Worst dodged between bumbling, irate shoppers, and avoided the flailing arms of thoughtless pink goblins, held in the arms of their caregivers. Worst felt herself throw up in her mouth a little as she, with her loyal minion not far behind, dodged a young couple, who were holding hands. The female, a blonde, was clad in the uniform of Tokiwadai Middle School, a uniform Misaka Worst was quite familiar with, while the male, who had a head of spiky dark brown, almost black hair, wore what both Worst and Junichi recognized to be the uniform of A Certain High School.

Once Worst had managed to squeeze through the crowds, both descending and ascending, she waited off to the side, near an informational booth a few meters away from the bottom of the stairs for her minion. Before long, Junichi emerged, stressed-looking. He barely avoided an oncoming hunting party of rowdy preteens and stumbled over to the informational booth.

"History's repeating itself, minion… anyways, time to get into action." Worst's eyes looked upwards, towards the two security cameras; one sat in either of the upper corners, looking down at the bottom of the staircase that lead back up to the surface. The cameras swivelled about, their glowing red 'pupils' landing on she and her minion's forms more than once. At the end of the mall's first hallway, which split into two more hallways, both of which were lined with shops, there were more security cameras which swivelled about in a way that Worst found to be almost menacing.

Worst grinned, as she grasped onto Yamashita Junichi's shoulders and pulled him close. Pressing herself against the informational booth, her body covered up part of a map of the mall's interior, which pointed out many of the shops and other points of interest in its snaking hallways. Yamashita Junichi writhed in Worst's arms at first, not realizing what was going on, and panicking as he imagined the ways in which Accelerator would utterly destroy him. Junichi didn't realize the fact of the matter, but Worst did; if Junichi would've been behaving more calmly, the two would've resembled a couple of inconspicuous lovers.

"Stop your squirming, minion. We need to keep up appearances, there's cameras everywhere. Misaka's going to make her way to the bathroom; no cameras there, Misaka's sure of it. In the bathroom, Misaka's going to let her ability go crazy," Worst began. As Worst whispered into his ear, Junichi slowly stopped writhing, and his lips curled into an approving smirk.

"And once the power's out, I'll warm things up. Just text me when you're ready for the waterworks," Junichi responded.

Misaka Worst nodded, and, unleashing Yamashita Junichi with a playful shove, she began to make her way towards the 'fork' in the hallway. The pyrokinesist remained behind, his arms crossed, as he began to loiter about. Worst saw him enter the first store on the left side of the hallway, which she knew to be a rather high-end beauty supplies store.

"Misaka's minion's into lavender-scented bubble baths? Misaka never knew."

Once Worst arrived at the 'fork' in the hallway, she took the fork's right hallway, leaving the left be; she knew that both hallways lead to washrooms, but the right hallway's washrooms were closer. Worst's eyes darted around, as she examined the stores that flanked her on either side. Worst's vision passed over jewelry stores, bookstores, 'natural beauty product' stores, and, eventually, her vision landed on a store that pertained to Worst's interests; an 'adult novelty shop'. White, pink and red hearts floated above the shop's logo, which read "Climaxxx – Your Number One Stop for All Things Naughty". Worst snickered, as her lips began to curl into a grin. The mischievous clone of Misaka Mikoto made a sharp right, and stepped from the underground mall's synthetically-lit hallway and into the darkened store.

As Worst's eyes began to adjust, two facts became obvious to her; firstly, the store was much larger on the inside than it looked to be on the outside, and, secondly, the store seemed to be trying to achieve some sort of dark and/or gothic theme. The darkened store was just barely lit by rays of crimson light that slowly spun in place. Worst looked to the ceiling, and found that the rays were produced by large, vaguely gothic-looking chandeliers. Worst rolled her eyes, and muttered to herself under her breath.

To Worst, the store almost resembled a department store, in its organizational system; there were a series of isles, each with a bright pink sign above them that hung from the ceiling, detailing what the isle contained. Isle four, the closest isle to Worst's position a few feet from the store's entrance, which was referred to as "Seductress' Stomping Ground", was relevant to Worst's interests.

Stepping into the isle, Worst's eyes widened slightly. Wooden shelves, that were easily ten feet tall or higher, were stocked with row after row of scandalous outfits. From corsets to 'naughty' maid outfits, to replicas of the wide variety of uniforms used by maids-in-training attending Ryouran Maid School, there was everything. Worst's vision fell upon an outfit that interested her in particular. It was in the row after the multiple rows dedicated to the Ryouran Maid School uniform replicas, and, to Worst, it was perfect.

Hanging from a shiny, black leather corset on a hanger of their own was a pair of long, thigh-high stockings. As Worst quickly ran a finger over them, they felt extremely soft, as if they were woolen. On another hanger, there were two elbow-length black gloves, which, upon being patted up by Worst, were made of the same material as the apparent set's stockings. Worst climbed onto the wooden shelf, and stood up on her tiptoes. She pulled the set down from a rack just above her head, and looked it over. Worst's vision continued to scan over the set, looking for a small, white square that would let her know just how much the store wanted for such a prize.

"M-M-M… Mikoto?!"

Misaka Worst looked up, a befuddled expression on her face. Worst clicked her tongue in annoyance as she beheld the source of the vocalization.

"Misaka isn't Onee-Sama. Get your facts straight."

Before Worst stood the embarrassed-looking form of Shirai Kuroko. Her tawny hair fell to her midsection, long, and straightened. The young woman, whose cheeks were scarlet red, was clad in a bright green, lower thigh-length sundress, and a pair of expensive-looking gladiator sandals. A stylish, light brown leather purse was slung over her shoulders, and a pair of aviator sunglasses were perched atop her head.

"W-Worst, I-I'm so sorry! It's really dark in here, a-and, I couldn't tell that it was you! I had your s-sister on my mind, n-not the way you think! I mean, I know I'm here, but… b-because…"

"Misaka knows aaalllll about why you're here… Misaka knows." Worst shot Kuroko a menacing grin as she approached the level four teleporter. "Misaka's got time; her minion is waiting for her, but he can continue to wait. This subject is far more important, anyways… Misaka is a master of eroticism."

Kuroko hung her head in shame, and shook it from side to side, as her entire face began to glow red. "You caught me red-handed, Worst. Can you keep a secret?" The teleport inquired, as Worst, arms crossed beneath her bosom, looked down.

"Misaka might, if Onee-Sama's main squeeze can. By the way, Misaka suggests that you invite some of the other, "superior" units! Misaka would like to have an orgy, but Misaka likely won't ever get the chance," Worst began, as Kuroko raised her head, and looked on.

"Misaka knows that the unit with serial number ten thousand thirty-two is into some dirty things, as is the unit with serial number ten thousand seven hundred and seventy-seven. Misaka's met The Prototype, but The Prototype is a prude," Worst explained.

"That would be extremely awkward, Worst... I think I'll pass. If you have someone waiting for you, you should probably go and meet with them. As much as I appreciate your offer, and your… um… knowledge, I think I can handle things on my own!" Kuroko responded, as she offered Worst a warm smile.

The nefarious clone of Misaka Mikoto shook her head, and took Kuroko by the wrist. "Misaka insists. The world of eroticism is grand and full of different things to explore. Misaka knows everything that there is to know about this world. Let Misaka be your guide."

Worst produced her phone from her pocket, unlocked it, and began to form a text message. "Minion, go do something for a few minutes just dont hit on girls. Misaka wont be there to save u if you fuck up."

Stuffing her phone back into her pocket, Worst looked back up, and was pleased to see that Kuroko hadn't run off on her. Worst spread her arms, and began to walk, as the teleporter reluctantly followed.

"See this? This, this is the stuff of legends. Misaka thinks it'd work well with some equipment," Worst explained, as she motioned towards the lingerie set she clung tightly to. She raised it upwards, assuming that Kuroko could bask in its glory. The teleporter examined the outfit as she continued to follow behind Worst. "I think it's… great, but it's a little bit too dark in color. I need something flashier, something brighter," Kuroko spoke, great pride evident in her tone of voice. It was then that she raised an eyebrow quizzically. "What exactly do you mean by 'equipment'?"

"Why don't you just dress up as that fucking frog? Misaka thinks Onee-Sama would fuck your brains out, then!" Worst proclaimed, as if she had tapped into some inner genius. Kuroko seemed to shudder at the idea, much to Worst's joy. "As for equipment, Misaka means basic things, your vanilla paraphernalia; your chastity devices, your clamps, your thrones or stools, the choice is up to you, for worship and such. How do you not know about this sort of thing? Misaka's disappointed; Misaka knows that Onee-Sama is as vanilla as they come, but, Misaka still expected more."

"C-chastity devices and clamps?! That's 'vanilla' paraphernalia?! This is all so… so…" Kuroko practically demanded; for as long as Kuroko knew her, she'd known that Worst was just a little bit twisted, but this seemed…

"Intense!" Kuroko blabbered.

"Here, Misaka found something while you were wigging out," Worst stated, as she climbed onto a wooden shelf at the end of the isle. She didn't have to stand on her toes, as the suit was within arms reach. Removing it from the rack, Worst held it before Shirai Kuroko.

The suit almost resembled a single-piece swimsuit, yet, in what appeared to be a deliberate act of defiance against the feelings of 'safety' a single-piece swimsuit provided, the suit was extremely revealing. It was bright red, and a diamond-shaped hole was cut in the lower center of the suit, which would expose the wearer's naval. It had no back to speak of; rather, the suit would be held to the wearer's torso by a series of long, thin strings.

"This looks… oddly familiar," Kuroko stated, as she looked the suit up and down. "Where have I seen this before?"

"Don't ask Misaka, Misaka isn't into girls," Worst replied. "Misaka thinks this will do just fine, for someone like you. It's bright, and it hides just enough to preserve your dignity, while also allowing you to flaunt… whatever those are." The nefarious clone pointed to Kuroko's considerably smaller bosom, to which the teleporter pouted.

"Not funny, Worst! But, I think this looks really good, actually! Still can't shake the feeling that I've seen this somewhere else before," Kuroko spoke, as she gently took the outfit from Worst's free hand. She gave it one more quick glance, before she shrugged. "I've been here for what feels like hours, and I haven't really found anything that'll suit the mood, at least until now. But, ah! I'm sure you don't want to hear me ramble, especially about this sort of thing. Sorry, Worst."

Misaka Worst grinned, and offered a soft, and, to Kuroko, at least, what seemed like an almost villainous chuckle. "Misaka doesn't mind; Misaka likes to know what Onee-Sama's been getting up to, so that she can tease Onee-Sama about it."

Kuroko sighed, and placed the lewd, corrupted swimsuit over her shoulder. "Thanks, Worst, for helping me find something. You really didn't have to. Anyway, earlier, I asked if you could keep a secret. Can you? I really want this to be a surprise. You can prank me another time if you want, but can I ask that you don't this time? Please, Worst?" Kuroko inquired, with a look of desperation that made Misaka Worst chuckle.

"Misaka can try, but she can't promise anything. Misaka has a habit of letting important information slip in important situations. If Misaka sees Onee-Sama, the urge to spoil your plans might just overwhelm her," Worst stated.

Kuroko offered Worst a small wave, as she turned away, and made her way to the cash at the front of the store. Frustration was evident in the teleporter's facial expression, which brought the villainous clone great joy. Worst was far from done at Climaxxx, however. Leaving the "Seductresses' Stomping Ground" isle, Worst looked to the bright sign above the isle adjacent to it, which was known as "Masochists' Bliss"; she rang her hands as she casually stepped into the isle.

Yamashita Junichi couldn't have possibly been any more bored. Having received Worst's text some time earlier, the pyrokinesist had sought out a place to sit until Worst was done with whatever it was that she was preoccupied with. In the end, following a few minutes of indecision, he'd decided to grab a quick bite to eat in the underground mall's food court.

The lines were more than the pyrokinesist could reasonably cope with; as he sat in a hard, rather chilly plastic seat at one of the few empty tables in the food court, Junichi's vision looked over the crowds of people who had formed zigzagging lines in front of food vendors' places of operation. To Junichi's dismay, even the cheap, notoriously unhealthy fast food vendors who had set up shop in the food court were packed.

With his earbuds jammed into his ears, blaring the official Bloody Fist soundtrack's aggressive and heavily trash metal-based themes, the pyrokinesist produced his phone from his pocket, unlocked the device, and navigated to his phone's text messaging app. Opening it with a tap of his finger, he began to type up a message.

"Worst where tf you at? Waiting sucks get to the foodcourt nerd."

As Junichi pocketed his phone, his stomach cried out in a desperate plea of hunger. The pyrokinesist turned his attention back to the various food vendors in the food court, and looked down at his stomach, as if it was a living thing that could sense his anger.

"Quit bugging me. Do you really want to wait in one of those lines? Worst should be here soon enough, and then we can get things rolling, my little man. You won't have time to think about how hungry you are when we're PRANKing everyone."

Utterly bored, and without anything better to amuse himself with, Yamashita Junichi formed a small ember in the palm of his hand. The tiny, crackling flame danced about, as if it were a little performer. From the center of his palm, it moved to the tip of his fingers, and then to his wrist. Before it could potentially gain sentience and attempt to take over the world, Junichi waved his hand, and snuffed it out.

It was then that he saw, but didn't hear something fluttering around his head. Junichi swatted at the airborne annoyance, palm outstretched. The miniscule irritation landed on the table, and looked up to him. Junichi rested his chin in the palm of the same hand the ember had been dancing in, and placed his elbow on the table. It was a tiny insect, that almost resembled a beetle; its shell was white, as were its six long, spindly legs. Its wings folded into its shell, and its compound eyes moved about on either side of its head.

"My, my; you're a weird-looking thing, aren't you?" Junichi rhetorically asked; he didn't particularly expect an answer from the insect. It began to walk around the table, tiny legs soundlessly moving up and down at a rather impressive rate. Junichi placed his available hand down on the table, palm against the cold plastic. The beetle immediately changed its direction, and began to walk towards the pyrokinesist's outstretched hand.

Climbing onto his finger, the beetle's legs, the tips of which were rather sharp, danced across Junichi's skin. "At least I've got a buddy. You going to wait with me, man?"

The beetle didn't answer, then spread its wings and flew away. Yamashita Junichi groaned. "Stop talking to bugs, dumb shit."

Misaka Worst placed a small collection of soon-to-be purchases at Climaxxx's front, and only cash. In a pile, there was the outfit Worst had taken a liking to, as well as numerous nipple and foreskin clamps, the latter of which surprised Worst simply because they existed, along with a grand total of five bottles of lubricant.

"Y'know, for a second, I thought you were biribiri, but you're not! You're one of her Sisters, yeah?" The young man behind the counter inquired. Worst raised an eyebrow at him, and proceeded to fish around in her shorts' pockets for her wallet with her left hand.

"Misaka's far superior to Onee-Sama; just look at Misaka's tits," Worst pointed out in a matter of a fact sort of way, pointing with her available right hand to her bosom.

"Yeah, they're pretty nice. Fine shape; big and round. If you were anyone else's Sister, I'd try and get at 'em… I don't want to die though! Oh, how the mighty have fallen! Why does biribiri have to be so berserk?!" The young man exclaimed in what sounded like Worst to be suffering. This amused Worst to no end.

Once she had found her wallet, Worst offered the young man a glance. Short, pointy light blue hair adorned his head, and he had light stubble of the same color – Worst assumed his hair was somehow naturally blue, or he had gone out of his way to dye his stubble, too. He was clad in a loose-fitting and quite baggy brownish-golden hooded sweater; Worst could see little more, as the lower half of his body was obscured by the long wooden counter.

"In Onee-Sama's defense, she's actually calmed down a bit; that doesn't mean that she wouldn't fry you up, though. Onee-Sama doesn't involve herself in Misaka's business, most of the time, which is a good thing. Unfortunately, for you, Misaka's womb is on reserve, as are her tits," Worst pointed out as she slipped her debit card, chip forward, into the machine that the young man had handed her.

"Hey, say, wait a sec. Which one are you? I know biribiri has a lot of Sisters. You don't talk like the other ones…"

It was then that the young man's face went completely pale. His eyebrows fled nearly halfway up his forehead as his eyes widened. His body began to shake slightly, as realization set in.

"Y-you're… you're with… one of… Accel-chan's. F-forget I said anything! We never had this conversation! I JUST DON'T WANT TO DIE! OH, HOW THE FETISH KING HAS FALLEN! WHERE'S THAT BASTARD KAMI-YAN WHEN YOU NEED HIM?! Oh, that's right! He's off engaging in his mating ritual with his cute wife! GAH! So jealous!" The young man cried as he backed away.

Worst outright laughed as she placed her debit card back into her wallet, and pocketed her wallet. "You're afraid of tou-san? Please. Tou-san is a big sissy and a tsundere; Misaka's going to have tou-san screaming and cumming nonstop for her, soon!" She proclaimed.

The young man behind the counter seemed to have settled back into a more relaxed state; Worst could see, plain as day, that his face was still ghostly white. At the very least, he had stopped shaking. Worst clicked her tongue as the young man bagged her lewd purchases.

"S-seriously, I'd rather NOT have Accel-chan splatter me all over the walls, okay? I was… I was just messing around! Yeah, joking, hahaha! Oh man Accel-chan and biribiri are going to gang up on me… the end of the Fetish King may be near!" The young man lamented. "T-thanks for shopping at Climaxxx: Your Number One Stop for All Things Naughty…"

Worst offered the young man a playful wave before she left the store, purposefully allowing her hips to seductively sway from side to side. Out of the corner of her eye, Worst saw his head following her, while she surmised that another head of his was rising, as well. The thought of the young man's sexual frustrations amused Misaka Worst.

The diabolical clone of Misaka Mikoto produced her phone, occasionally looking up to examine her surroundings, and to ensure that she didn't bump into any of the wandering crowds that surrounded her. Worst went to type up a message to her minion – however, she began to laugh, and snorted once or twice when she read the message he had sent to her. Her fingers began to tap against the screen of her phone as she formed a reply.

"awwwwww! Loyal minion. Im heading to the bathroom now. Get rdy."

October 9th, 2014. 2:51 PM.

Kamijou Index shovelled the last of the scrambled eggs that sat on her plate into her mouth. With her eyes closed, the nun moaned aloud as she chewed; her taste buds were being deeply pleasured, as what remained of her brunch was pushed down her throat by the muscles in her mouth.

"Touma… so good. You're the best cook ever!" Index happily exclaimed, as she leaned back in her chair at the kitchen table. The nun happily placed her hands on her belly, which felt like it was going to explode at any moment, and sighed contentedly. "I-I mean, you are too, Misaki! You're just as good!" Index quickly added as she jumped slightly.

"Yes, Touma, this was so very splendid. Thank you so much for making this for us!" Misaki added, giggling as a result of Index's antics, as she reached over to her husband's hand and ran her bare fingers over it. Touma's lips had curled into a wide grin of complete satisfaction.

"This is all I want, you guys, all I need. I just want to know what I'm making my family happy. If I'm doing that, I'm set," Touma spoke, as he locked his fingers between Misaki's own. His wife ran her thumb over Touma's right hand's own thumb.

Othinus, who sat on her knees on the table's surface adjacent to Index, had a plate that was better suited for her body's small size, and a serving to match. With her bare hands, Othinus gripped the last bit of her piece of ham, and bit into it. The tiny former Magic God was awash in lovely sensations; Touma's cooking was supreme, and superior to all others, to Othinus.

"You know we have forks for you, right Othi-chan? All you have to do is ask," Touma stated. Othinus swallowed her morsels, and shook her head.

"Forks? Forks are for plebeians. Why use silverware when I have fingers and opposable thumbs that accomplish the same task perfectly well? I know the answer, of course; utilizing silverware is seen as the 'proper' thing to do in most circles. I, however, disagree. I'm taking back eating with one's hands, and reinventing savagery!" Othinus proclaimed.

Index raised a hand to her chin, and stroked it thoughtfully between her finger and thumb. "Othinus actually makes a really interesting point. Why DO we use forks, or spoons, or knives? If I wanted to drink a bowl of soup, I could just… drink from the bowl! You know, put it to my lips and slurp it all up, or if I wanted to eat spaghetti, I could curl the noodles around my finger, or fingers. We eat toast with our hands, not with forks and knives, among other different kinds of foods!"

"The nun seems to be on a thinking rampage," Othinus commented. "Don't hurt yourself."

"Where is all this philosophy coming from, Index?" Misaki inquired; she was genuinely curious. Index was far from foolish, and she was certainly a thinker, Misaki knew it, and had seen Index's intellect in action before. This, however, seemed like an oddly specific topic to Misaki.

"Don't know; it just came to my mind, and I felt like saying it! I guess it's just funny that we, as people, as humans or otherwise, apply certain values and certain levels of importance to certain things," Index replied. "Does anyone need the bathroom?" The little nun inquired. In response, both of her guardians shook their heads, and Othinus pointed to the entrance to the living room, referring to the many bathrooms she had in her own miniature mansion.

"Okay, speak now or forever hold your peace! I'm going to go brush my teeth and wash my hair, so I might be a while," Index explained, before she left her seat and journeyed off to the bathroom.

"Allow me to get down from here before you get all… touchy-feely? I'd much rather not bear witness to your displays. Far too early for that," Othinus complained.

"Who said anything about touchy-feely? Maybe I won't lay a hand on Misaki for the rest of the day," Touma responded with a smug grin, as he folded his arms.

"Please. Don't pretend like such a feat is possible," Othinus grumbled as her own lips curled into a grin. The little former Magic God slid from the edge of the table and down onto the pulled-out chair behind her. Her tiny bare feet made contact with the soft cushion on the chair, and, after she bounced in place for a few seconds, Othinus climbed down to, and slid down the right front leg of the chair, as if she were a little firewoman. "Steed! To me!" Othinus commanded.

No steed came. Othinus pumped her fist in the air in anger. "Flea-bitten mongrel! You will pay for your treachery!" Othinus lamented as she sauntered off in the direction of the living room.

"What was this I heard about you not touching me for the rest of the day? I do not think I will be able to permit this," Misaki stated, as she rose up from her seat. She slowly, and methodically approached her seated husband.

"Othi-chan's probably right, I don't think that's possible. Even if I tried, I know I'd break, eventually," Touma responded, as his wife smiled warmly down at him. He lifted her shirt, and placed a kiss on her tummy. Misaki giggled, as she ruffled her beloved's hair.

"Even if that tickles, I like the way it feels." Misaki purred. "Do it again? Pleeease?"

Touma placed another soft kiss, which caused his wife to shiver slightly, and then looked up to Misaki. Touma flashed her a grin, before he rose up to his full, imposing height. Misaki found herself looking up at her husband, as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her close. Her husband softly kissed her on the forehead, which caused Misaki to giggle.

"It appears you lost before you could even begin, husband of mine. For shaaaame," Misaki spoke, as she wrapped her own arms around her husband's back.

Touma shrugged, and rubbed the tip of his nose against Misaki's own nose. She smiled warmly, and began to blush as he did so. "Worth it. I'd rather admit to losing than waste a perfect day by not adoring you. Best wife ever," Touma responded.

Kamijou Misaki's heart soared, and her blush only deepened at her beloved's words. Misaki felt a joy beyond all joys wash over her as she stood up on her tiptoes, removed her arms from around Touma, and placed both of her hands against her husband's cheeks. A swift, but extremely passionate and loving kiss was planted on Touma's lips, as Misaki closed her eyes briefly.

Pulling away, Misaki returned to a normal stance. "Best husband ever."

With that, Touma proceeded to pick Misaki up, and gently placed her over his shoulder. Misaki giggled wildly at the sudden act, and allowed herself to be carried about. "Let's leave the dishes until we get home, huh? I'll get them in the sink, but they can sit there. Let's go against the usual schedule for a day!" Touma spoke as he carried his wife off into the living room.

"Is there any good reason not to, my prince? We are always on schedule, always on time. I do not see why we cannot just break away from it for a day, at the least," Misaki replied, still draped over her husband's shoulder.

Touma approached the couch, checked for any lingering Othinuses, and, when none showed themselves, he knelt down, and gently, and cautiously lowered Misaki down onto it. "Did you enjoy your ride?" Touma inquired as he laughed. Misaki set a cushion atop the couch's right arm, and then placed her head against it.

"Very much so; I do have to say that being carried in your arms is my preferred mode of transportation," Misaki replied. Touma rose halfway up, and then placed his hands on the end of the couch's seat, a few inches from Misaki. "Your wish is my command, Misaki-Sama," Touma jokingly replied. "I'm going to go get the dishes into the sink, and I'll be right back. Try not to get into too much trouble while I'm away."

Misaki gently swatted at her husband's form; he sidestepped the 'attack', as they both laughed aloud at their respective antics. "Trouble is something I get into, but I rarely do so all by my lonesome; trouble is best made in groups," Misaki stated, as she raised her right hand. She spread her index and middle finger apart, and placed them above and below her eye, in her well-known, cutesy pose.

As Touma departed for the kitchen with a wave, Misaki let her eyes close. She knew she should've been sitting up, as she had just eaten, but, her body and mind didn't want for that to happen. She thought about sitting up, and tried to will her form to do so, but laying down seemed like the much more appealing position.

For a while, Kamijou Misaki laid like that. More than once her body yearned for her husband's touch, and more than one she pushed the yearning back, reasoning that there would be plenty of time for that in the late evening hours.

Misaki's yearnings were interrupted by an odd sensation. It started at the bottom of her leg, near her ankle, and slowly began to pitter-patter upwards. Small, poking sensations crawled up Misaki's leg, and then up her thigh. It finally stopped at her midsection. The sensation ceased to be. Suddenly, however, she began to feel something tugging at the outer side of her thigh.

Misaki opened her eyes, and caught the tiny burglar red-handed. Othinus looked up to Kamijou Misaki, her hands stuffed deep into the left pocket of her pants.

"You're nothing like the nun; her phone is glued to her being, nearly at all times. Being able to access the Internet on a mobile device is far superior to having to constantly look up at the screen of a television," Othinus complained. Misaki watched on, amused, as Othinus scaled her torso, and, gripping onto Misaki's shirt with her tiny hands, pulled herself up.

The little former Magic God had clearly washed her hair, as it sparkled beneath the sunlight's rays. It fell to her posterior, elegant and a littler bit curly. Othinus had changed from her dress, and into a different outfit. Dark blue leggings, which depicted a white, exotic-looking floral pattern clung to her legs and waist. On her torso, Othinus wore a long-sleeved, woolen turtleneck shirt, whose color matched that of Othinus' left eye.

"You are correct about that, Othinus. Index long ago became one with her phone," Misaki replied. Realizing that she had company, Misaki reached for the remote that sat on the left arm of the couch, though her arms weren't nearly long enough to grasp for it; Misaki wouldn't close her eyes and rest if Othinus wanted to spend a few minutes with her.

Othinus rolled her eye, rose up, and made her way over to the couch's left arm, as Misaki giggled. "You do not have to, Othinus; I just did not want to suddenly sit up, and knock you down," Kamijou Misaki stated.

"I believe you," Othinus stated flatly as she grasped the television remote. She wrapped her tiny arms around it, and hoisted the remote upwards, as if it was a great two-handed weapon. Othinus, careful of keeping her balance, walked up Misaki's leg, and placed the remote on the Mental Out user's belly when she arrived. "You're welcome."

"Thank you very much, Othinus; I appreciate your willingness to help," Misaki responded sincerely. Othinus plopped down on Misaki's stomach as Misaki reached for the remote. The Mental Out user flicked the television on, and set the remote down on the space available on the couch's right arm.

As one of Academy City's news channels broadcasted the weather for the day, for the next three days, and for the upcoming week, Misaki heard a sound that caused her to begin to laugh; the kitchen tap had, at some point or another, been turned on, and the sound of dishes being cleaned was more than enough to make her giggle, at least at the implications.

"Did that dunderhead not say the chores would be dealt with later?" Othinus inquired as she crossed her arms, and shook her head in disapproval.

"He has always had a difficult time breaking schedule, Othinus. It is one of the things that makes Touma, Touma. It is one of the things that I love about him," Misaki responded, as she tried to control her giggling.

Othinus smiled, and turned her face away, before she snapped it back into passiveness. "Anyways. I demand that you face me in combat, in the realm of Bloody Fist, at one point or another. You faced the nun, and were utterly defeated. Yet, in a fair fight, without the use of an overpowered character, I believe that you could flourish. While it's true that I'm tutoring the nun, I can also tutor you. Then, when I pit you against one ano… I mean, watch on, proudly as my students honorably spar, I can know that I have brought some positivity to the world."

Misaki offered Othinus a playful glare, and an equally playful smirk. "You are officially on. Tonight… might not be the best night, depending on how Touma is feeling, however, I can certainly make time for you tomorrow. I promise I will, Othinus."

Othinus gave a nod of affirmation, as she turned her attention to the television screen. "The both of you are little better than brood animals, constantly engaging in coitus," the tiny Magic God teased.

"A healthy sex life helps promote a healthy marriage, Othinus," Misaki retorted.

"Healthy might be an understatement…" Othinus said, as she began to adjust her position; the tiny former Magic God curled her legs beneath her posterior, and placed her hands in her lap. Before Kamijou Misaki, Othinus looked like a tiny proper lady.

"I know we've had this discussion before, but… Touma and I do not mean to bother or upset you, Othinus."

Othinus craned her neck to Kamijou Misaki, and cocked her head to one side. The suddenness of the tonal shift caught Othinus off guard. "Bothered? Upset? Not particularly. In all seriousness, it would be foolish and illogical for me to feel emotionally unwell because he and you have a physical relationship; you are married, after all. It would be queer if you didn't have one. I think THAT might bother me; such prudishness is… unsettling to see in humans, who are, inherently, very social," Othinus explained.

"Social is one way to put it," Misaki commented.

Othinus chuckled softly, and rose up. She placed her hands on her tiny hips, and began to pace about on Misaki's belly; Kamijou Misaki didn't mind it. She found the tiny former Magic God to be quite adorable, in her own strange way.

"Should I ever find a way to be restored to my full size… at this time, I don't even know if that's something I truly want. I've adjusted to my current height, so much so that it almost feels… it almost feels like I've always been this way, Misaki. This feels like "the norm", now, so to speak." Othinus rambled.

Kamijou Misaki offered Othinus her left hand's index finger. Reluctantly, at first, the tiny Magic God took it into her own two hands. "Should you ever want to find a way, we will help you, Othinus. We are your family. We… we love you, and we want you to be happy; Touma, Index, myself, we… love you more than any one of us could ever explain. Our friendship was once tenuous, in the past, but as I've grown to know you, and the person you are, as Mikoto was able to start again with Accelerator-san, I sought to, and have accomplished the same."

Othinus' lips parted, ever so slightly, and she merely looked at the warmly smiling face of Kamijou Misaki, for a few moments. Before long, the tiny former Magic God managed to place her lips back together, and she, in an act that had slowly become more and more characteristic of her as years passed by, smiled. It wasn't wide, but it was full of warmth.

"Accursed Mental Out. Understanding you was an unfathomable task, even more so than understanding that dunderhead in the kitchen.

But I'm glad I was able to."


	7. The Nearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onto chapter seven we go, and, next chapter, the PRANK Arc will come to its conclusion!

Kamijou Index finished blow-drying her long, silver hair, which, for the time being, was long and straightened. Her mouth smelled of mint, and, as Index parted her lips, and gazed into the mirror before her, she could see her glowing white teeth shining beneath the bright, synthetic light provided by the bathroom's ceiling panels. Index stepped away from the thin carpet in front of the cabinet that held the bathroom's sink, her sock-clad feet slid over the carpet's flat, fuzzy surface. Index began to remove her top, with the intention of changing from her 'lounging' outfit, and into her Walking Church; however, instincts called Index to action.

"Toouummmaaaaa! Don't come in the bathroom! I'm changing! You're not out there, are you?"

No response immediately came, and Index swiftly pulled her blouse away from her torso, and her shorts followed. With swiftness, Index slipped her Walking Church over her head, inserted her arms into the habit's sleeves, and nuzzled herself comfortably into the baggy habit.

Index pulled her hair out from the habit, craned her head back, and shook her hair about, gently. Index gave herself one final look in the mirror. She posed, leaning forward, and stuck her posterior in the air. The nun stuck her tongue out, and then returned to her regular stance, a small blush on her face. She turned away from the mirror, pulled the bathroom door open, flicked the lightswitch off, and casually strolled out, down the hallway, past her (and occasionally Othinus') bedroom, as well as her guardians' bedroom, past the vacant kitchen, and into the living room.

"Slowpoke!" Touma jokingly chastised, as he rose up from the couch. "You look gorgeous, Index."

Kamijou Index's lips curled into a wide, toothy grin, as her cheeks erupted into a shade of bright pink. She fiddled with her fingers, and looked to floor. "Touma! You're so sweet!" The nun exclaimed happily.

"Your hair is stunning, Index; it always looks so wonderful, after it has been washed, and even when it hasn't been, of course." Misaki commented, as she turned around to face Index. Othinus, who sat on Misaki's shoulder, kicked her legs back and forth, her attention drawn to the program playing on the television; it appeared to be a documentary of some description. Judging by the narration, Index could tell it had something to do with the animal kingdom, as the narrator was speaking of a particular location's food chain, and the importance each animal played in that chain; though this type of documentary was among Index's list of favorites, she reasoned that she could very likely find it, or something similar to it, online.

"M-Misaki! You're both making me b-blush! AH!" Index squealed, as she ran to her guardians. She took Touma into her arms, and tackled him down onto the couch, giggling wildly as she did so. Othinus turned her little neck to face the tackled form of Kamijou Touma, and the giggling nun-lump that had set itself upon him.

"The nun's here, are we leaving, or are we leaving? Chop, chop." Othinus commanded, as she repeatedly placed, and then raised the side of her outstretched palm of her left hand against the open palm of her right.

"Right away, Othi-Sama," Touma mumbled from beneath Index; in one great heave, he lifted Index up, over his head, holding her as if he was poised to throw her to the ground. Index squealed in delight, as her arms and legs thrashed in the air; Misaki wildly giggled at the sight, and Othinus' lips curled into a smirk, as she closed her eyes, and shook her head. Touma, the seven foot five gentle giant that he was, merely laid Index across the back of his neck, supporting her body with his arms as he did so. "If you guys are ready, I'm ready!"

"Whenever you are, my prince." Misaki spoke as she, too, rose up; Othinus waved her tiny arms as she began to panic. In response, Misaki placed her hand loosely around the former Magic God, in order to protect her.

"You're not going to carry me outside like this, are you?! Touma, put me down, please!" Index cried, as she struggled to free herself. Touma chuckled heartily as he carefully set Index back down on her feet. The nun fixed her hair, and then moved to the apartment's door. Slipping on her loafers, she waved for her guardians to accompany her. Touma got himself into his shoes, while Misaki slipped on a pair of white trainers, and adjusted her purse's position over her arm. Othinus motioned for Index to approach. "Put me in Misaki's bag, nun? Could I also borrow your phone? I'll let you know if anything important comes up."

"Okay, accountant!" Index giggled, much to Othinus' chagrin, as she unzipped Misaki's purse, and dropped Othinus inside. The fluffy, soft interior of the purse ensured that Othinus' small body would be unharmed. Index ran to the couch, grabbed her phone, and returned to Misaki's side. She lowered the device into her guardian's purse, until she felt Othinus take hold of it.

Touma opened the door of he and his family's apartment, and held it open as Misaki, and then Index made their way out. Closed the door behind him, and locking it with his key, Touma snatched Misaki's right hand up in his left, and their fingers interlocked as Touma placed a gentle kiss on Misaki's cheek. They made their way towards the elevator, as Misaki giggled, and gently rubbed the tip of her nose against her husband's.

Index pressed one of the buttons required to call the elevator to their floor, and placed her hands behind her back, as she began to softly hum.

"Hey, where's Othi-chan?" Touma inquired, as he looked to Misaki's shoulders, and then to Index's; her lack of presence on either of their shoulders confirmed to Touma that Othinus must've been forgotten.

"In here, Touma," Othinus squeaked from within Misaki's purse. "I'm using the nun's phone." Relief fell upon Kamijou Touma, and caressed his chest, casting away the dread that had begun to bubble up in his gut, but, the idea of Othinus hiding herself didn't sit well with him. Misaki beat her husband to the punch, however.

"Othinus… you can ride on one of our shoulders, if you would like to. There is no need to hide; we are in the City of Science, after all. The idea of a physically small person is not entirely out of the realm of reality, here." Misaki spoke softly, and with an almost motherly tone.

"Maybe later, Mental Out. There're ghosts to destroy in this maze, and I have over fifteen minutes' worth of energy left," Othinus responded; Index's phone's bright screen could be seen glowing from within Misaki's purse.

The elevator arrived, before long, and the Kamijous stepped in. Index leaned up against the car's left wall, while Misaki pressed the required metallic button that would bring the family to the apartment's first floor. Stepping back, Misaki let her head rest against her husband's shoulder. She closed her eyes, and sighed contentedly, as her grip on her husband's hand tightened.

On the apartment's first floor, the elevator's doors opened. "You have reached: floor one! If this is your destination, please exit now! Thank you, and have a wonderful day!" The Kamijou family left the elevator car, and the car's doors closed behind them.

"So? What, exactly are we going to get up to, today?" Touma inquired, as he opened the lobby's door, and held it for his family, who passed him by, and offered their thanks; Misaki did so by grabbing at her husband's crotch with her free hand, and flashing him a devilish grin. "Not that, you… not yet, at least," Touma jokingly commented, as Misaki winked at him. As the Kamijous left their apartment complex behind, and stepped out into the sunlight, Index turned to her guardians.

"We could go see Last Order, Worst and Accelerator! She was texting me earlier, so I assume she's home?" Index suggested.

"That is one idea; if you can somehow manage to pry your phone away from the One-Eyed Menace, we may be able to set something up," Misaki responded. "We could go to the amusement park, in district six, or we could go wander about district fifteen?" She then suggested.

"Othi-chan? Any ideas?" Touma inquired.

"A moment, I'm nearly… curses; too fast. This game's artificial intelligence is ruthless. May it never gain sentience and try to wipe out the human race."

"That is… an unnerving thought," Misaki commented awkwardly. "Hopefully, if such a thing were to happen, Protectron would defeat it."

"Please don't say it's… err, "his" name! He might come around… so creepy…" Index said nervously; she moved her head from left to right at a rather rapid pace, before she looked to the sky. She didn't see anything that looked vaguely like a hunk of bright silver, and she sighed in relief.

"It's nice enough, really, and it's usually out helping people. Could be worse, right?" Touma rhetorically inquired with a shrug. "Besides, it's nice to Saten-san and Uiharu-san."

"Anyways," Othinus began. She poked her head out of Misaki's purse, and, holding onto the purse's outer edges with her tiny fingers, she continued. "Where you traverse, I'll follow, but, if I might make a suggestion, I'd say… hm. Not the Dianoid; all manner of dullards, there, and we'll more than likely encounter a crisis we're better off avoiding, if the past is any indication. Malls, in and of themselves, are rather droll, as well."

"Alright, so, Othi-chan is easy to please, unless it involves malls, can't blame her there, I'm easy to please… How about you, my Queen?" Touma inquired, as he raised his wife's hand to his lips, and placed a passionate kiss to its top. Passersby ogled, and a small group of nearby girls collectively proclaimed "aww!" at the sight. Misaki blushed, as her hand, with her husband's still clutched tightly in it, fell back to her side.

"If Index can get a hold of Last Order, and she and her family welcomes us, I do not see any reason as to why we should not pay Accelerator, Last Order, and Worst a visit," Misaki replied happily.

"Othinus! I need my phone back!" Index excitedly exclaimed, as she rushed to Misaki's side.

"Take it; wretched video games will be the death of me," Othinus complained in response. Index plunged her hand deep into Misaki's purse, as the family continued to walk; Index would occasionally look up from her task at hand in order to ensure that she didn't bump into anyone. More than once, her hand bumped Othinus, who attempted to bite the nun in response. Eventually, after a few seconds of struggling, Index produced her phone, unlocked it, and quickly began to form a text message.

"Guurrlll! You busy?! Famjam and I are out on an adventure! Wanna do something?!"

Stuffing the device back into Misaki's purse, Index rejoined her guardians, as Othinus closed her eyes, snuggled into the softness of Misaki's purse's interior, and relaxed.

"Want to let me know when, or if, I get something from Last Order, Othinus?" Index inquired.

"Uhh huh." Othinus groggily responded.

"What're we going to do for now?" Touma asked, as he stuffed his available hands into his shorts' pocket. He rolled his shoulders, and groaned as his muscles flexed, and stretched inside of his enormous form.

"Hmm. The park nearby?" Misaki responded, as a warm smile formed on her face. The idea of snuggling up to her husband in a quiet place, with the rest of her family close to her, as the day's cool breeze passed over seemed, to her, to be a heavenly one.

"I was going to say Playland Gau, but… Othinus and I play video games enough, especially Othinus, I think she might need an intervention, she's addicted," Index commented, as a giggle fled from her lips.

"I can hear you, nun, and I'll remember your scornful words, when I'm crushing you in our next Bloody Fist tournament." Othinus snapped in response.

"Haha! I'm not scared of you, pipsqueak!" Index taunted, as she stuck her tongue out in Othinus' direction.

"Kamijou Index!" Misaki called out firmly. "Apologize. Othinus is not a "pipsqueak." The seriousness in Misaki's voice made Index feel like she was a child being scolded; internally, the nun was laughing at the thought. "Okay, okay, mom…" Index replied jokingly, before she turned her attention to Misaki's purse.

Index grumbled under her breath, and she reached into Misaki's purse, plucked the writhing Othinus out, and placed the tiny former Magic God atop her head. "Sorry, Othinus."

"Apologies won't save you from my wrath," Othinus quickly retorted, before she began to punch the top of the nun's head; to Index, it felt more like raindrops were falling on her.

"You're all crazy, but so am I. We're in this nuthouse together, and I love it," Touma chuckled, as he ran his thumb over Misaki's hand's own thumb. Misaki did the same to her husband, and their thumbs soon found themselves caressing one another.

"As do I, husband of mine," Misaki responded lovingly. As Othinus continued to 'pummel' Index's head, her fangs bared in a feral display, the nun wrapped her arm around Touma's available right arm, and smiled warmly. "Me too. Othinus knows I love her, even if she's annoying."

Othinus ceased her pummeling, and, for a moment, the former Magic God's tiny heart jumped into her throat.

"I… I love you, too, you fools."

"Tsundere," Index commented.

"Almost entirely tsun, not so much dere." Misaki jokingly responded.

"I will destroy you all!" Othinus proclaimed, her demeanor quickly changing; she resumed with her pummeling of Index's head; the tiny former Magic God's fists swung up and down as she growled.

"So, park, then? Assuming someone doesn't try to steal the cute little Othi-chan from us, we should be able to make it and have ourselves a grand ol' time, while we figure something out," Touma spoke.

"As long as you know that you are going to be cuddled, Kamijou Touma." Misaki stated, as she brushed herself up against her husband. Butterflies fluttered about in Touma's chest at the thought. It was if, with every day that passed, Kamijou Touma loved Kamijou Misaki more and more. As he walked with her, hand in hand, Touma could see heads turning. Some were turning to face the sight that was Othinus, but others were clearly looking at his wife, many of whom very likely recognized her as the fifth ranked level five, "Mental Out", one of few level fives who was something of a 'face' for them; but to Touma, Kamijou Misaki was so much more than that. She was his everything, his life-force, the source of his joy, and of his fortune. Kamijou Misaki was Kamijou Touma's mate, his partner, his other half, the woman who he belonged to.

"Nun, put me back in Misaki's purse; there're… too many people… looking; I'll come back out when we get there…" Othinus mumbled. Indeed, Othinus was garnering some attention; even if most of said attention consisted of looks of adoration and facial expressions that screamed "ohmygodit'ssocute! Where do I get one?!", Index quickly plucked Othinus from her head, and carefully placed her back into Misaki's purse, where the tiny Magic God embraced the softness and relative darkness of her 'carrying case'.

"I'm game! If Last Order doesn't get back to me in a few, we can just go do our own thing!" Index spoke. She smiled warmly, and returned to her guardian's right side.

Misaka Worst sat herself down in the restroom's stall; school district seven's underground mall's restrooms were spacious, and the stalls were impressive in their size, and the comfort they offered to users. She'd thoroughly inspected the restroom, and, surprisingly, she'd found herself alone; Worst assumed most people were using the restrooms that were farther away from the entrance of the mall.

Worst grinned maliciously, as she began to plot the scheme she knew would be legendary. In order to do that however, she'd wanted her ability to go out of control; she wanted to make this fun. Worst's grin only widened, as she slipped her hands into her shirt from below, and began to massage her bosom.

"Toouuu-san… Misaka wants you to feel her up in a dirty public bathroom. This one is too clean for Misaka. You should grab Misaka's tits… she knows you jerk off to the idea of making out with her tits. Why waste all that warm, gooey stuff, when you could be using Misaka as a depository? Ooh, tou-san, Misaka wants you so bad. You make Misaka turn into such a slut. Misaka's wanted you… for so long."

The nefarious clone of Misaka Mikoto discharged a wave of electricity, that caused the lights to flicker momentarily. It wasn't the result Worst was looking for. Misaka Worst's grin widened, and widened, as her cheeks felt like they'd be torn apart.

"Inferior unit! T-that's d-disgusting! MISAKA MISAKA exclaims angrily, as she chastises the insidious behavior of the inferior unit in an attempt to hide her own awkwardness!"

"You can join in, Control Tower. Tou-san would never admit it, but he wants us both to fuck him, and fuck him, and fuck him, until his balls are empty, each and every day."

"Misaka disagrees; the Accelerator doesn't see the superior unit, or the inferior unit in such a manner, Misaka states clearly, attempting to lay down the words of truth."

"Bah! Serial number ten thousand thirty-two? You prude! Go away! Misaka's disappointed in you. Misaka thought your deviancy was blossoming well… looks like Misaka was wrong."

Worst grumbled to herself, as she attempted to get herself back in the mood. Electricity was jumping from her form, though it wasn't due to being pleasured.

"Misaka doesn't care about sharing tou-san, but she knows that she's going to get creampied the most. Misaka will go on the pill, so Misaka can get creampied, over and over again… tou-san."

The idea was enough to get the gears grinding; as Worst's Sisters continued to chatter about Worst's sinful words, a torrent of electricity emerged from her form. As it danced through the air, it crackled, and flashed in and out of existence, as Worst quietly giggled to herself. The lights in the restroom browned out, then flickered once, twice, three times, and, finally, blackness descended.

Yamashita Junichi jumped slightly, as the underground mall's lighting browned out, returned, then flickered in and out of existence a total of three times, before everything began dark. The screaming began, as the people around Junichi began to mindlessly panic. Rising up quietly from his table, Junichi put on a panicked visage, and began to stumble, as a small, 'portable' ember flickered in his hand, and glowed dully. It grew, and grew, as the palm of his hand began to glow, slightly. Junichi saw that strange, white insect again, and attempted to bat it away with his available hand. The beetle-like insect fluttered aside, and seemed to stare at him, momentarily, before it buzzed away, its tiny wings beating at incredible speeds.

From the growing, crackling flame in his hand, grey, strangulating smoke began to slip between his fingers. He continued to stumble, pushing through crowds, who appeared to Junichi to be none the wiser, as smoke emerged from his left hand. The first 'clouds' of smoke reached the underground mall's ceiling, and, as he and Worst had predicted, the sprinkler system was activated. Screams, and cries of panic, which were already high enough, grew higher in pitch as their utterers were doused in water. Junichi himself was being soaked by the continuous, powerful jets of water, but he couldn't care less. He broke into a run, as smoke continued to pour from his hand.

As he ran, from one end of the underground mall's food court to the other, sprinkler systems were activated behind him; despite the smoke that was originating from his form, Junichi found that he was able to merge into the crowd, who ran with him, likely too panicked to look around. Junichi left the food court, and continued to run down a hallway of shops. More sprinkler systems were being activated as the smoke his Personal Reality generated rose into their range of detection.

Misaka Worst stepped out of the restroom, her bag of 'goodies' in hand, and began to wickedly cackle as she walked out of the hallway the restrooms near the food court were located in, and bore witness to the fleeing, screaming, cursing crowds. A full-blown laughing fit was nearly torn from her as she watched her fellow mallgoers being sprayed with water. Worst produced her phone, unlocked the device, and, after navigating to its text messaging app, Worst began to type up a text message to "Minion #1."

"minion! Hahaha! Great job! Love you! not that way, though, yuck. Meet me outside the mall, misakas going to play the innocent bystander if anyone asks! dont fuck this up!"

As Worst ran through the continually pumping jets of water that emerged from ceiling's sprinkler systems, she made her way through the food court, which was slowly but surely becoming less and less densely populated. Mall security had appeared, and were demanding for calm, but their pleas were falling on deaf ears. Worst could hardly hide her smirk, as she passed one by.

Worst passed by Climaxxx again, and found it to be closed; the entrance was barred off with a thick-looking metallic gate, that had pulled from one side to the other. Her feet continued to slap against the floor, as she left the 'fork' between two hallways. Misaka Worst's eyes turned to the entrance, and, in the moment, they widened slightly.

Standing before the clone of Misaka Mikoto was Kakine Teitoku. Completely white, his bright green eyes, filled with sympathy, looked towards Worst. Six minimized, but still grand-looking wings emerged from his back, and, clutched in his left hand was a terribly long, sharp-looking glaive, which, like Teitoku himself, was completely white, from end to end. On either side of Teitoku was a rather large, cutesy white beetle. Each had a pair of large, glistening green eyes on either side of their respective heads. Their legs were round and curled, and the singular horn that protruded from either of their heads almost resembled some type of construct made of a series of balloons. They each had large, almost cartoonish clacking jaws. Their green eyes looked about excitedly, as if they were taking in the scenery around them. Their jaws opened and closed in quick succession, as they chirped to one another.

"If one of you could travel deeper into the mall, and deliver the word that the entrance is going to be secured, I would be grateful." Teitoku spoke softly to the beetle that stood at his right.

"Okay, daddy!" The beetle exclaimed happily as it began to move away from Teitoku's side. It quickly passed by a stunned Misaka Worst, who was still taken aback by its cartoonish, and non-threatening form.

"Where will I go, daddy?" The other beetle inquired, as it raised its round head to look up at Teitoku.

"Direct any Anti Skill personnel who arrive deeper into the mall, please? You'll have my gratitude, should you choose to do so."

"Yay! I'm going to help, daddy!" The beetle chirped happily.

"Misaka-san? Is that… no, you're one of her lovely Sisters. I wish we could be meeting under nicer circumstances. I'm sorry you had to find yourself getting caught up in whatever it is that's happening, here. I'd advise you to leave," Teitoku suggested. There was a warmness in his voice, yet, his tone was firm, and almost commanding.

"That's exactly what Misaka was doing; why do people keep mistaking Misaka for Onee-Sama?! Is it "Onee-Sama day" or something?" Worst demanded, frustrated, as she stormed passed Kakine Teitoku and the beetle that remained at his side.

"Oh, no! A friend is upset, daddy! We need to help!" The beetle spoke, as it turned around to face the grumbling, stomping Misaka Worst. "It's okay! You're very pretty, and you matter! A lot!"

"Blah!" Worst spat, as she climbed up the steps that lead back to the surface. Electricity jumped from her form, and crackled about as it flashed in and out of being.

"I don't know what's going on, but I'm going to put an end to it." Teitoku mused aloud, as he beat his wings. The second ranked level five rose up from the ground, as his minimized, celestial wings carried him.

"Bye, daddy!" The beetle exclaimed, as Teitoku travelled down the hallway that lead towards the food court. Kakine Teitoku passed by closed shop after closed shop, and, as he entered the food court proper, he found it to be mostly empty. Its floors, tables, and many of the counters of its food vendors were covered in puddles of water.

Those members of the mall's security force that remained in the food court, perhaps pursuing the same wrongdoer that Teitoku was, recognized and acknowledged him, but didn't get in his way. After he surveyed his surroundings for a few moments, Teitoku referred back to the vision of his airborne Observer Unit; the tiny beetle was perched atop the shoulder of the young man whose hand had been glowing, and smoking, and who, before that, had been, quite literally, playing with fire. At one point, Kakine Teitoku had thought him to be an innocent bystander whose Personal Reality was acting up as a result of the negative stimuli around him, but, the smug, victorious look that was on his face, as he casually strolled through a mostly-empty hallway had come to suggest otherwise. Teitoku scowled, and prepared himself, as his six wings beat again against the air, and helped him continue on his way.

Most, if not all of school district seven's underground mall's patrons had effectively been herded into the mall's farthest point; when Junichi had left them to their own devices, he'd pushed past the shoulders of reassuring security officers. The pyrokinesist found himself attempting to make his way out of the mall. One snaking hallway seemed to lead to another, and more rows of shops – the underground mall seemed to be a much larger place when there weren't herds of irate, bumbling shoppers wandering about, which made enough sense to the pyrokinesist.

Standing just outside an occupied ice cream shop, the fact that it hadn't been vacated both surprised and somewhat impressed Junichi, the pyrokinesist created another small flame in the palm of his hand, which allowed more smoke to emerge. Directing it behind him, Junichi watched as the small, silvery cloud made its way out from between his fingers, and towards the ceiling. The pyrokinesist, chuckling quietly to himself, left the premises, as he trusted the smoke he'd created to do its job. It soon did; the nearby sprinkler system was triggered, and jets of water pelted the floor. The suddenness of the sprinkler systems' activation, and the equally sudden sounds of jets of water generated gasps, and surprised laughter from within the ice cream shop.

The mall's lighting system suddenly sprang to life before him; Junichi's eyes were forced shut, stunned by the unwelcomed brightness. The pyrokinesist struggled to re-open them, and to an extent, he was able to, but his eyelids slammed shut on him soon after. Yamashita Junichi raised his hands to his eyes, closed them into two fists, and rubbed them over his closed eyes.

"Attention, shoppers! A technical difficulty of unknown origin has just been rectified! We hope this technical difficulty does not hamper your shopping experience! We sincerely apologize for this inconvenience! Thank you!"

The synthetic, almost robotic voice rang in Yamashita Junichi's ears, as he found himself able to re-open his eyes. His eyelids, open all the way, blinked rapidly for a few seconds, before he sighed, quietly chuckling to himself, and moved to continue on his way. His process was interrupted, however, by a cold, disembodied voice.

"Oi."

Yamashita Junichi spun around on his heel. Of all the people the pyrokinesist had expected, he hadn't expected to see that woman again. Soaking wet, with mascara running down her face, the black stains of which Junichi thought wouldn't have been out of place on the face of a model posing for some sort of 'edgy' photoshoot, was the woman he'd been 'sizing up', as she had put it.

"Fancy seeing you here, huh? You get caught too?"

The young woman scoffed, and shrugged. "Yeah. Going to skin whoever let this happen, if I find them."

"No kidding. I'm a bit on the pissy side, myself… what a downer. I mean, we're just out here, trying to shop in peace, and, what do you know? Damn power goes out, and then the sprinklers start going all haywire? Mass chaos?" Junichi spoke. There was a genuineness in his voice, and something of an awkward, unconfident slouch in his step.

"Mhm. It's all shit," the young woman replied. "Where's the fucking way out? This place is a maze. Everything looks the same. "

"Actually, that's what I'm looking for, myself… kind of got lost. Haven't been here since they did the renovations, and everything's so different." Junichi admitted, as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his damp jeans. "Care to join me?"

"Forget it," the young woman snapped in reply. "If you don't know the way, I'll find it myself. Stupid fucking mall. Who builds a mall like this? The people responsible should be locked up, or castrated, or something. Assholes."

"Woah, okay… shut your mouth, Yamashita. This one's got some problems. I mean, I get that was obvious, from how she reacted… not really, though. Doesn't matter."

"Good luck, then, I guess? Happy trails?" Junichi spoke, as he reluctantly continued on his way, turning his back to the soaking wet young woman, who speedily passed him by, taking the lead in their figurative race to the finish. As she did so, she shot him a glare, and held her head high, to which Junichi sighed to himself. "Of course I'd be the one to hit on the B.F.H. What was it everyone's always saying that level zero used to say? "Oh, my bad luck"? I sympathize, buddy. I sympathize."

"Such fortune."

The Kamijous had sat themselves down in a small, thankfully, for Othinus' sake, unoccupied park in school district seven. A short, metallic fence, the chain link fabric of which had an ornate, floral design, surrounded the patch of short, soft grass. In the park, there were numerous benches, arranged two by two, with each bench facing the other. In long wooden planters, beautiful flowers, some of which were yellow, some of which were white, and some of which were red grew; the flowers bathed themselves in the rays of sunlight that beamed down onto them, as they happily swayed in the breeze.

On one of these sets of benches, closer to the eastern side of the small park, and set near two small trees, the Kamijous lounged. Othinus had placed herself on Index's lap. The tiny former Magic God's legs were elegantly crossed, and her upper body leaned against the nun's stomach, as if Index was a gigantic pillow. Index, who periodically checked her phone for a response from Last Order, occasionally poked Othinus' belly, which caused her to jump.

On the opposite bench, Kamijou Touma was sprawled out. He had set the back of his head in Kamijou Misaki's lap. His dark eyes looked up at both the warmly smiling face of his soul mate, and at the blue sky above. Misaki was gently running the fingers of her left hand through her husband's hair, while her right had Touma's left held tightly in it.

While Index and Othinus had occasionally bantered back and forth for some time, their guardians hadn't said much of anything. Touma was on cloud nine, soaking up his wife's presence, and Misaki felt like she was in heaven. Her spirits were soaring, as she looked down at the man who was her everything, her other half. She could feel the pleasure that was generated just by looking at this man, her man. Misaki looked into Touma's eyes, and, she could feel their souls connecting, and the peace of mind that came with his presence.

Her fingertips gently passed over Touma's scalp, as she gently ran some of his dark, soft hair between her fingers. "You are such a handsome man," Misaki spoke.

"Eheheh. Thanks. You're not half bad-looking yourself," Touma replied, as he took Misaki's hand away from his hair, and pressed his lips to its palm, slowly, and with adoration. Touma took Misaki's left hand in both his left and right, and placed it close to his chest. Beneath her hand, Misaki could feel Touma's heartbeat, and, with each thud, she felt like she was falling deeper and deeper in love with him. Touma's vision fell to the golden band that sat comfortably on her ring finger, and then to the identical ring that sat on his own, symbols of their sacred union, and of their undying dedication to one another. "You're gorgeous, you're beautiful, you're… amazing. If I could marry you all over again, I would," Touma mumbled, as he looked into his wife's starry, moist eyes. Her lips had curled even farther, into an even warmer smile.

"As would I, my prince. The years I've been your friend, your partner, your wife… have been the happiest years of my life. I have never really been able to explain the happiness you brought me, the moment you stepped into my life, so many years ago, so many happy, fulfilling years ago, Kamijou Touma, and the way you have shaped me, and helped me become a better person, and I still cannot. Words are insufficient. I adore you. I owe you everything and more, I owe you my very life. It has been in your hands for over a decade, and you have never let me down. You are the ultimate."

"I adore you too. You don't owe me anything, beautiful. Like I said earlier… such fortune. That's what you bring me; you, Index, Othi-chan, you bring me such fortune. I'm glad I could be there, and I'm grateful for having been given the chance to love you, and to be loved by you… Kamijou Misaki."

"Stoooppppp! You're making me… you're going to… noooo!" Index exclaimed, before she surrendered; tears dripped from her eyes, down her cheeks, and splashed down onto Othinus, who was stirred from a trance-like state by the sudden bombardment.

"Excuse you," Othinus complained, as she began to try and ring her hair out.

"S-sorry!" Index sniffled, as she refrained from wiping her nose on the sleeve of her Walking Church. Othinus shook her head, and laid herself out flat on Index's lap, and waved her arms and legs across the soft, cool fabric.

"Everything okay, Index? You good over there?" Touma inquired, as he turned his head to face the crying nun. She was blushing, and smiling from ear to ear.

"I-I'm fine! I promise! It's just… oh, you two are just so p-precious. I love it so much when I get to see you talk like this, to one another! It's just too much for me! It's so sweet, and adorable, and I love how much you love each other! Ah!" Index explained, as she wiped her tears away.

Touma slowly sat up, gently, and cautiously, in order to ensure that all of the blood didn't rush down from his skull at once, and, once he had, Touma took one of Misaki's cheeks in one hand, and gently, kissed the other. As his lips moved away, Misaki moved Touma's ear towards her lips, pressed them against the lobe of his ear, and, with a smile, whispered "'til death do us part, Kamijou Touma."

"'til death do us part; I don't even really think that could stop us, we're untouchable," Touma replied with a laugh, as he sat himself up straight, next to his wife. He shrugged his shoulders about, and cracked his neck, producing a groan of satisfaction as he did so. "So, Index, any word from Last Order? Or are we just bumming it?"

"Bumming it, by the looks of it," Index responded, as she held the thrashing, nibbling Othinus down with her right hand, and scrolled through her phone with her left. "That's okay, though! We're still going to have lots of fun!"

"Such optimism; I love it," Misaki commented, as Touma laid his head against her shoulder, and placed a hand on her thigh. Misaki knew the act to be an innocent one, though, even if it wasn't, she wouldn't have minded a quick touch. Misaki placed her own hand on Touma's, and smiled contentedly, just as her husband did.

"We should find Aogami, and hit him with more rocks," Touma stated in a matter of a fact way.

Misaki began to giggle wildly at the thought, and at the images of a terrified Aogami Pierce that ran through her mind, while Index raised an eyebrow, even as she quietly chuckled at the idea. Othinus continued to attack the nun's hand, as she struggled to free herself from Index's grasp.

The sound of Kamijou Misaki's giggling caused Touma's heart to race, and butterflies that had been fluttering to begin wildly flying about at great speeds. Touma placed yet another kiss on Misaki's neck, which caused her body to shiver in pleasure.

"You are in a very generous mood, Touma, giving me all of these kisses." Misaki said softly. She enjoyed the moment, simply absorbing every second that her husband treasured her.

"Hope you don't mind. Just speak up if you need space, beautiful. You know how it goes," Touma replied, as he suddenly took his wife into arms. He embraced her tightly, as Misaki returned her husband's embrace, a bright pink blush on her face. Misaki brought her knees up, and placed her feet against the bench's seat's surface, as she nuzzled into her husband's warm, tender, adoring embrace. There and then, Misaki could've easily fallen asleep, as relaxation, and a familiar sense of safety washed over her.

"Absolutely not; I share my space with you. I welcome your affection, always. To have such a gentle, tender lover is something I do not take for granted," Misaki mumbled, as her eyes began to close, and she felt herself beginning to drift off.

"Alert! Misaki's falling asleep! Quick, we have to get her up!" Index exclaimed; she moved her hand, which Othinus still clung to, towards her shoulder; the tiny Magic God plopped down on the nun's shoulder, and Index rushed to her guardians. She leapt onto both Misaki and Touma. Apparently not aware of the full size and weight of her adult body, Index's 'assault' resulted in the bench tipping backwards, and, pulled back further by gravity, the bench collapsed, causing the Kamijous, with the exception of Othinus, who had seen the inevitable coming and jumped from the shoulder of the tipping nun to the safety of the grass, to tumble.

"O-okay! That's not something I expected to happen! I'm sorry! Oh my GOSH!" Index cried, as she clambered to feet. To her not-quite-surprise, Misaki and Touma were making the best of the moment. They laid next to one another in the soft grass, giggling and chuckling, respectively.

"It's fine, Index, that was actually a lot of fun. One minute, we were like "whoa!" and the next, we were like "OH NO!" How have they not made an amusement park ride out of this?" Touma rhetorically inquired, as he rose up, and then helped Misaki to her feet.

"What would 'they' call such a ride? "Falling Benches of DOOM? Maybe, Index can be the carney," Misaki spoke through giggles, as she moved her bangs away from her eyes, and placed them behind her ear. "That was fun."

Misaki looked down, to the tiny form of Othinus, who was pulling on the leg of her pants. "Purse, please? If we're leaving, I'd rather be in there. I don't enjoy being gawked at."

"Of course, Othinus," Misaki replied somewhat somberly, as she squatted, and opened her hand. Othinus' small form stepped into Misaki's palm, and, with caution, Misaki lifted the former Magic God to her purse, and placed her inside.

Index approached her standing guardians, and, with hands outstretched, began to speak. "So, poll time! What're we doing? Amusement park? I could try and call Last Order?"

"As long as I am with my family, I am happy, no matter what it is we do." Misaki stated happily.

"Same; so, pretty much, it's up to you and Othi-chan, Index," Touma replied with a nod.

"I'll try and ring the dumb-dumb. I wonder what she's up to. I wonder if… I wonder if Last Order's been corrupted by an evil boy! An evil, secret boy! Maybe she sneaks off to see him, and spoon with him in the woods!" Index exclaimed excitedly.

"Spoon… in the woods? Spooning's uncomfortable enough as it is, I'd hate to be spooning in the woods. That'd hurt, bad," Touma spoke up, as he rubbed his neck.

"I would feel bad for the unfortunate young man who chose to pursue Last Order, if such a thing were true…" Misaki responded; she could imagine the beet red face of Accelerator, with literal smoke pouring from his ears.

Index produced her phone from Misaki's purse, unlocked it, and began to dial Last Order's number on the device's calling app. As she did so, Touma turned to Misaki. "Speaking of spooning… heh. I was just thinking, about the first time we tried that. You weren't heavy enough to cut the circulation of my right arm off, and, if you did, I dunno… those Things in my hand might've gotten mad, but, man, it was still uncomfortable. Saving grace? Your hair always smells amazing, so, at least I had that."

"Babyyy, aw. Thank you. I am glad you like it. No, I must agree, spooning is a win, lose, matter. I much prefer regular cuddling; that way, I know you are as comfortable as I am," Misaki replied, as she took her husband's hand into her own, and smiled up at him.

"Best wife ever." Kamijou Touma spoke, as he sighed contentedly. Kamijou Misaki blushed, as she beamed, stood up on her toes, and placed a soft, quick kiss on both of her husband's cheeks, one after the other, followed by a quick peck on his lips.

"Come on, Accelerator, get into the swing of things, MISAKA MISAKA proclaims, as she tries to encourage Accelerator to stop being such a stick in the mud!" Last Order said; Accelerator stood just outside the open door to Last Order's room, which the clone of Misaka Mikoto stood in the center of, arms outstretched.

"Why don't you just invite one of your fucking friends over, goddamn brat? I don't have time for this," Accelerator complained. "I have to charge this stupid choker soon, too."

"MISAKA can charge it, MISAKA MISAKA explains, attempting to persuade Accelerator to join her," Last Order responded.

"Tch. You and the other brat broke my old one. Not that I care."

Accelerator entered the room, glowing red eyes peering out from beneath his snow white hair. Last Order's room was the opposite of Misaka Worst's room; while Worst enjoyed her room being plain, and chose to have only the most basic of essentials and little more, Last Order's room was lavish, and bright. Its walls were covered in bright, light pink wallpaper, with images of Gekota, the mascot who made Accelerator want to vomit, placed about.

Last Order's bed was long and wide, easily large enough to fit three or four people comfortably. It had a pulled down green comforter, and sheets that were of a lighter shade of green beneath it. Its pillows were white, long, fluffy, and luxurious. A few feet away from the bed was a large, walk-in closet, which was open, and filled to the absolute brim with neatly organized outfits, and neatly placed shoes of all shapes; from trainers, to flip flops, to gladiator sandals and high heels, to fashionable boots, Last Order had it all. Against the wall that was directly across from Last Order's bed, there was a small, wooden desk, and a small, plastic chair. A rather large tablet, as well as Last order's phone were placed on the desk's surface, along with a pair of earbuds; a bottle of water sat in the upper right hand corner, and a reading lamp sat in the left.

Clad in a dark blue sweatshirt, a pair of dark, tight-fitting jeans, and his cheap trainers, the number one ranked esper in Academy City approached Last Order. "Goddamn brat." Last Order moved towards her desk, with the intention of unlocking the device, however, it was then that the device began to vibrate.

"Oh! It's Index, MISAKA MISAKA states, with plans to inform Accelerator of the identity of the individual that's attempting to communicate with MISAKA!" Last Order said happily. Accelerator grunted, and leaned against the wall. He looked down to the smiling form of one of many Gekotas. This particular Gekota was clad in a pair of swim trunks, and had an ice cream cone, which had bright green ice cream dripping down its surface. Accelerator resisted the urge to spit, and turned his vision away from it.

"Hi, Index, MISAKA MISAKA says, offering her warmest greetings to her dear friend!" Last Order said happily, as she plugged her earbuds into her phone's headphone jack, and placing either individual bud into each of her ears.

"Last Order! Hi! I missed you! How are you?! I'm so happy I got a hold of you!" Index nearly shouted; Last Order could practically hear the joy in her voice, and the clone found herself blushing.

"MISAKA's missed you too! MISAKA's good, how are you? Good, MISAKA hopes! MISAKA's really happy to hear from you too, MISAKA MISAKA says, happily answering her dear friend's inquiries!" Last Order replied with a smile. Accelerator watched it form, and he felt something inside of him soar at the sight of her smile, at the sight of her happiness. Accelerator felt his own lips curling into a reluctant smile.

On the other end of the line, Index was almost jumping for joy, so happy was she, as she and her and family wandered about, with no real aim or goal. On Kamijou Touma's left side, Misaki held his hand, and, on his right, Index clung to his arm. A content smile was on his face; he looked like the happiest man on Earth, and very likely beyond. In Misaki's purse, Othinus had fallen asleep, and was softly snoring, as she dreamed her little dreams.

"I'm great. Are you doing anything today? I'm out with the lovers, and Othinus! We should do something, if you're feeling up to it!" Index said happily. Last Order immediately knew how would she answer, if this were solely her home; this wasn't solely her home, however.

"One second; MISAKA's going to put you on mute, quickly, MISAKA MISAKA explains, as she moves her finger towards the 'mute' button," Last Order explained. She muted the call, and turned to face Accelerator. "Accelerator? Can Index, the Saviors, and the Redeemed One come over?"

The answer that had risen to Accelerator's tongue was something along the lines of "whatever gets you out of my hair, fucking brat." However, what actually emerged from Accelerator's lips was very different. It surprised even the "top dog" of Academy City.

"Whatever makes you happy, Last Order."

Last Order's cheeks began to glow bright pink, and her eyes looked to the floor, as she rocked back and forth on her heels and toes.

"A-Accelerator…? MISAKA MISAKA asks, curious as to Accelerator's sudden change in behavior…"

Accelerator crossed his arms, and sighed, as a vein in his forehead throbbed. "I just want you to be happy. I just want to fucking see you smile, okay? You and the other brat… I… yeah, they can come. I haven't seen those goddamn heroes in a while, anyways. Have fun with the nun."

Last Order giggled with happiness, as she unmuted her call, smiling warmly. "Index? Are you still there? MISAKA MISAKA inquires, wondering as to whether or not MISAKA kept you on hold for too long, in a manner similar to technical support."

"Present!" Index called back happily.

"You can come! MISAKA can't wait to see you, and the Saviors, and the Redeemed One!" Last Order replied, ecstatic. She was nearly bouncing, as a smiling Accelerator took his leave. Accelerator found himself experiencing a similar feeling to the one he'd experienced earlier, when Worst had been 'bratting' him. It was exotic, and it in a way, it felt good, but, at the same time, Accelerator felt that it was oddly dangerous, that it was something that should never be acted upon, even if he had no idea how he would go about doing so.

"Aaaah! So exciting! Okay, I'll get these smoochie-touchy lovebirds to hurry up! See you soon, girl!" Index responded.

"Byyeee, MISAKA MISAKA says, offering her farewells, excited for the approaching arrival of her close friends!" Last Order said, as she ended the call, and pocketed her phone. Last Order rushed out of the room, and pulled the door closed behind her.

After travelling quickly down the stairs, trying to avoid tripping over her own feet, Last Order peered into the living room, which was vacant, and then to the kitchen on the opposite side of the hallway, where she found Accelerator at the kitchen counter. He had evidently plugged his choker in to charge, as he was supporting himself with his crutch. A simple, completely white device, it was rather long, as to allow Accelerator to walk mostly upright with little hunching, and had a comfortable, soft grip.

"Hungry, brat? If you are, you'd better let me know now. Once I'm done in here, I'm not getting back up," Accelerator stated, as he moved towards the fridge. Opening it with his available hand, he produced a loaf of bread.

"MISAKA is alright; if MISAKA gets hungry, MISAKA can just make herself something; MISAKA will probably make lunch for Index, the Saviors and the Redeemed One, so MISAKA can make something for herself then, MISAKA MISAKA states, speaking thankfully to Accelerator for his generous offer!" Last Order responded, as she ran up behind Accelerator, and threw her arms around his waist. Accelerator closed the fridge's door, and set the loaf of bread down on the counter.

"By the way. What the fuck did you want earlier, before the nun called? Your lazy ass was yelling up a storm. Were you just fucking hungry, brat?" Accelerator inquired. His available hand fell to the hands that were wrapped around him, and Accelerator took them into his own available hand.

"MISAKA just wanted to cuddle… when the inferior unit's away, MISAKA sometimes gets lonely, MISAKA MISAKA states plainly, explaining her feelings candidly to Accelerator."

Accelerator's crimson eyes looked down, as he hobbled around to face Last Order. A recurring thought passed through the "top dog's" mind.

"I don't deserve these fucking brats. They'd be better off with Yomikawa and Yoshikawa… but I know I can't live without them. Goddamn clingy, annoying brats. Goddamn hero, making me go soft like thi— why don't you just cut the shit? Why are you still fucking acting like this? He has a fucking name, you ungrateful shit. Touma. Kamijou fucking Touma."

Accelerator propped himself up on his crutch, and took Last Order into his available arm. The younger-elder clone of Misaka Mikoto took the skeletally thin form of Accelerator into her arms, and clung tightly to him. Last Order nuzzled him, blushing as she did so.

"Control Tower! You're nearly there; Misaka can feel it! Kiss tou-san! Then, Misaka can swoop in once he's smitten! Ahahahahaha!"

"Are these truly your feelings, superior unit, Misaka inquires? Is this the way you feel? Does this make the inferior unit's feelings valid, as well… the Accelerator may be in for interesting times, Misaka theorizes. Why have you held back for so long, Misaka questions?"

"You're a prude, serial number ten thousand thirty-two! You need to shed that crap, and come to the dark side! Once the Control Tower's in, we'll all have one-way tickets to tou-san's big, meaty cock!"

"I-inferior unit! That's not what this is about, MISAKA MISAKA states firmly, putting her foot down, as she's growing tired of the inferior unit insinuating that she l-likes Accelerator…"

"DO IT! DO IT!"

"Misaka thinks it would be a good idea; sometimes, families have to evolve… and to evolve, there must be breeding… eheheheh, Misaka chuckles, entertained by the current situation."

"And serial number ten thousand seven hundred and seventy-seven joins the brawl! Tou-san's harem is expanding!"

Last Order, blushing intensely, driven by peer pressure, and by her own matured body's strange way of thinking did it. She moved in for the kill. Last Order raised her face to Accelerator's. Her eyes closed, and, as she felt as if she was on the verge of fainting, Last Order's lips connected with Accelerator's, and Last Order's entire body shivered. Shame, pain, happiness, a feeling that this was so, so wrong, yet so, so right surged through the body and mind of Last Order. The denizens of the Misaka Network, with the exception of the Will, which was, to Last Order, oddly silent, began to chatter incessantly.

Last Order didn't know what she was doing, and she didn't quite know why she was doing it. Peer pressure was a convenient excuse, but, the way her body felt, as she pressed it against Accelerator's, it felt like something holy was being violated, twisted, and defiled. It felt like some step that never should've been taken had been taken.

And Last Order loved it. As if she was calling upon the power of Misaka Worst herself, Last Order let herself go, throwing all self-restraint to the proverbial wolves. Her eyes closed, she loudly panted, as quick, sudden breaths were inhaled and exhaled from her nose, which was jabbing into Accelerator's face, right below his left eye.

Last Order felt the violently trembling hand of Accelerator trying to push her away, at first, but, in his vulnerably state, he was having very little success. His right hand, which was still clasping his crutch, gave way with one great shudder, and he came close to falling. Last Order's long, feminine arms caught him, and lifted him back up to his feet.

Last Order was suddenly taken aback; not physically, but mentally and emotionally. Warm, wet tears were dripping down onto her face. Not from her own eyes…

But from the eyes of Accelerator, as his own weak, spindly, violently shaking arms returned Last Order's embrace.


	8. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to announce that this chapter officially brings the PRANK Arc to a close. The Surfacing Arc will be the next story arc introduced in Times Change, and it'll be kicked off next chapter!

Everything had happened so fast; Last Order had sprung upon him, not even giving him a second to act. Without his choker, he was about as physically capable as an infant. Held in Last Order's arms, as the lips that he was forced to know were so soft, the lips he didn't want to admit were so soft, and so absolutely, sickeningly delicious, Accelerator, the number one strongest esper in Academy City, an unstoppable force to be reckoned with, a breaker of espers and magicians alike, he who would bow to no man, felt desperate, and conflicted.

Last Order's fully-developed adult bosom continuously rubbed against his own flimsy, skeletal chest, and, as he felt some sort of primitive, raw desire course through his body, Accelerator felt love and hate tugging at either side of his body. He loved Last Order, not in this way, or, at least, he thought he didn't love Last Order in this way, he was almost sure that he didn't, and, yet, he felt overwhelming, unsettlingly intense self-hatred stab at his gut. This wasn't what Accelerator had intended to happen; the brats were supposed to be something like his surrogate children, and yet, there was this.

Accelerator tried to fight back the tears, the liquid weakness, the shame made physical that fled from his eyes, to no avail. Accelerator, the "top dog" had fought himself before, after that spiky-haired hero, supported by the Mental Out girl, had knocked him out cold, with one, final punch to the face that changed everything. Despite this, fighting not only this feeling, but this situation seemed like an impossibility to Accelerator. Unlike when he was fighting "that", a part of him wanted "this", a part of himself that he deemed to be ill.

Last Order's lips continued to smack against his own, as she breathed harshly, and quickly, in and out of her nostrils. Still pinned against the kitchen counter, supported by the arms of his dependent, certainly not the dependent he expected to be engaging in something like this, Accelerator's body shuddered, as if it were appalled by each soft, exotic moan that emerged from Last Order's lips, when they parted from his own. Accelerator was only even further disgusted by himself, as his weak, thin arms struggled to pull Last Order closer, acting of his subconscious' own accord.

"Last… Order… What the… FUCK… are we fucking… doing…?" Accelerator mumbled, almost incoherently, to an extent, in a spare moment in which Last Order separated her lips from his. Last Order's smile was an odd one; to Accelerator, it almost looked crooked. Her big, brown eyes looked into the crimson orbs that sat inside of his eye sockets.

"M-MISAKA doesn't know, MISAKA's never… done something so l-lewd before, MISAKA's never dreamed of something like… this… especially not with y-y… you, but, M-MISAKA thinks that, because this is happening with you, MISAKA thinks that she can say that this is okay… MISAKA loves you, MISAKA loves you so much! MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, as her voice rises to fall in line with her own heightened emotions, brought on by this queer moment…" Last Order replied; though her reply had begun softly enough, her proclamation of love was exclaimed louder than any vocalization Accelerator had heard produced by the usually soft-spoken clone in months, possibly years; Accelerator couldn't quite remember.

Last Order had told him that she loved him before, but, on those occasions, Accelerator had been able to shrug it off as little more than bursts of happiness, brought on by whatever favor Accelerator had done for her. This, however, couldn't be shrugged off so easily by the "top dog".

"Goddamn… brat," Accelerator spat, as the shame that fled from his eyes only increased in speed, and in its strength. "You've fucking put me in a really goddamn fucked up position, this… this isn't…"

Accelerator's vibrating body began to shake with greater intensity, as his mind began to unravel at an even faster pace. A sob awkwardly fled from his throat, as his form shuddered with the effort the vocalization took to produce. As if to shame him further, his arms fell, and his hands found their way to Last Order's hips. He wanted to push her away, so badly, for so many reasons, but Accelerator found himself falling deeper and deeper into this rabbit hole he'd been pulled into.

"I fucking… I fucking love you too, you goddamn stupid brat, but this… I don't fucking know! This is just fucked up! I don't even know if this is real, or if some stupid fucking magic asshole is fucking around with my head!" Accelerator shouted, with more ferocity than he'd intended. As if to atone for the accidentally harsh vocalization, Accelerator stumbled forward, as Last Order moved to accommodate his shivering body. He closed the distance between himself and a nearby kitchen chair, which he then set himself in.

His lips had curled into a grin, which began to stretch across his lower face, and, despite himself, and, despite his shaking body, and his screaming, revolting mind, his vibrating left arm was extended outwards.

"Last Order, get the fuck over… here… please? I don't even know what I'm fucking… doing… but the wrongness of this fucked up shit is… I don't know, it's goddamn doing something to me. Fucking brats, always making me soft… like this."

It was Last Order's turn to question herself, as her grinning, vibrating guardian sat before her. What, exactly, would happen, if she took this step into the dark, inky unknown that sat before her, beckoning her to step forward? What wouldn't happen? Last Order wasn't afraid of Accelerator harming her, far from it. If anything, Last Order felt that she had done more harm in her rash, sudden actions than Accelerator had ever done to her – had Accelerator even actually hurt her, ever? Last Order couldn't recall such an instance in the moment.

"Accelerator… MISAKA MISAKA says meekly, unsure of what action to take…" Last Order spoke, as her face had begun to erupt into a bright pink blush.

"Last Order, I fucking love you, okay? I goddamn fucking love you. Ever since you and the other brat… ever since you started… fucking growing up, things have been really goddamn awkward for me. I've had to do a lot of thinking, a lot of… contemplating. I've kept all this goddamn shit pent up inside of me, because I know it's fucking wrong. This is immoral, and against every fucking thing I stand for.

"But I… I just don't know what to do with either of you stupid brats anymore. The other brat's constantly fucking throwing herself at me, and, this shit is just getting to me. I think it's fucking getting to you, too."

"MISAKA understands, at least, MISAKA thinks she does, MISAKA MISAKA says, hoping to be able to become your understander in this matter that obviously has you feeling very… torn," Last Order replied, as she crossed the bridge that she'd been standing indecisively before. One slipper-clad foot after another, Last Order approached her guardian, and, as if she had done something like this a thousand times before, as if this wasn't her first, awkward romantic interaction, with someone she thought she wasn't supposed to be thinking about in an even slightly romantic way, Last Order set herself down, awkwardly, and unceremoniously in Accelerator's lap.

Tears were still streaming down Accelerator's face; at this point, he'd come to accept their presence as a part of the strangeness of this encounter, and with some effort, the wide-eyed Accelerator, more genuinely smiling than simply grinning, wrapped his arms around Last Order's torso, as he pulled her close. Last Order's lips curled into an awkward, but warm and accepting smile, as she placed her forehead against her guardian's own. This felt 'okay' to Accelerator; he wasn't kissing the brat, they were just showing affection to one another. In a way, kissing was another way of showing affection, but that was reserved for couples – the very idea of having anything of that sort with either of the brats made Accelerator want to destroy himself, yet, at the same time, it seemed so ideal, so perfect, in some perverse way. He'd shared his life with Last Order and Misaka Worst, so far, in this parent-child charade. Wouldn't it just be something different? An evolution?

"Last Order, I love you. So fucking much."

"MISAKA loves you too, more than you could ever know, more than MISAKA could ever say, MISAKA MISAKA explains, as she closes her eyes, and embraces the tranquility of this moment."

"Boo! Control Tower! Don't let this be the end; you've got to get a foot in the doors – maybe literally, Misaka doesn't really know what tou-san's into in regards to his fetishes – so that Misaka can have her way with tou-san! Take his virginity, if you have to, Misaka has no use for that shit!"

"The Accelerator doesn't appear to be in any condition to engage in coitus, Misaka assumes, based on the Accelerator's behavior… Eheheh, Misaka chuckles malevolently, as she realizes that the Accelerator is in an ironically vulnerably position. Superior unit, you should take his v-card, Misaka suggests."

"MISAKA isn't doing that, MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, drawing the line in order to avoid continued exposure to p-peer pressure!"

"Peer pressure? Is that what the kids are calling it? Misaka knows better…"

In the heat of Last Order's discussion with Misaka Worst, and Misaka Ten Thousand Seven Hundred and Seventy-Seven, She'd neglected to notice that her body had slumped down, slightly. The side of her face rested against Accelerator's shoulder. Last Order's eyes looked at Accelerator's face, as they occasionally blinked. Around Last Order's waist, Accelerator's arms hung. With his weeping quieting, Accelerator planted a single, soft, kiss on his dependent's forehead.

"MISAKA doesn't want anything between us to change. MISAKA just… just wanted to show you how much she loves you, and how much she appreciates everything you've done for her, MISAKA MISAKA explains, attempting to ensure that the previous incident doesn't create a rift between herself and Accelerator," Last Order quietly spoke.

"Don't be stupid. Nothing's going to change, goddamn brat. Does the other brat…?"

"The inferior unit was partly "responsible" for this, MISAKA MISAKA admits, somewhat embarrassed by the fact that she allowed the inferior unit to get into her head."

"Fucking figures. I… I love both of you ass-pains."

Last Order grinned awkwardly, as she bit her lip. "MISAKA knows that… the inferior unit seems to "want" you; the inferior unit's trying to persuade MISAKA to bring down the floodgates for her, MISAKA MISAKA confesses, betraying the inferior unit by exposing her evil plans."

Accelerator grunted, as his grip on Last Order tightened. "Whatever. The other brat's going to have to have her shit set straight; I'm not going to do something as fucked up as that with her. I doubt she's even serious; the other goddamn brat is a fucking bitch, and she likes fucking with people. You know that."

Last Order nodded, as she closed her eyes, and sighed. This was strange, and wrong, and yet, so, so good. This would likely never happen again; Last Order assumed it would become something of a skeleton in the closet, never to be mentioned.

"Oi! Worst!"

"Misaka is fine; just waiting for her bumbling frien— minion to return to her side…"

Before Misaka Worst stood a contingent of Anti Skill officers, armed with batons, and riot shields; at the helm of the contingent were two people Worst recognized. Yomikawa Aiho, her former legal guardian, and Aiho's second-in-command, Tessou Tsuzuri. Beneath their anti riot helmets, Worst could see the ends of Aiho's short, neck-length dark hair, and the much longer side bangs of Tsuzuri's own slightly darker hair.

Each individual who made up the contingent of officers was clad in a series of identical outfits, which seemed oddly dystopian-looking to Worst. Armor-clad, bright blue leggings, thick, armored combat boots, armored, long-sleeved bright blue chest guards, and anti riot helmets, all of which, to Worst's gratitude had translucent faceguards of bulletproof glass; at least she could see that these officers were real people…

All except for one, if Worst could even consider this to be an "officer".

Directly behind Yomikawa Aiho and Tessou Tsuzuri was what would be a terrifying presence, if Worst didn't know how much of a corny, suck-up it was. Standing just a few inches above eight feet tall, towering over its Anti Skill compatriots, was the living automaton known only as "the Protectron".

Broad-shouldered, and with thick, mechanical limbs, the widths of which could've put a bodybuilder to shame, Protectron's body was made up of metal; its chest was adorned with reflective, light grey plates that merged together, and formed neat, patterned creases, each of which glowed with cyan light. Its midsection was made up of eight long, sharp-looking metallic spines, that met in the center of its midsection. Beneath the spines, Worst could see what looked like another 'layer' of the same metal. It looked, to Worst, to be human-like, and yet, paradoxically, it looked so inhuman. It lacked ears; rather, it had a small, darkened hole on either side of its head. As well, it lacked a nose, nor did it possess lips; instead, its lipless, toothless upper and lower jaw, which Worst knew served no function, instead, they simply 'were', and formed a wide, toothless smile, that, to Worst, had always looked almost sinister. From its perpetually open mouth, bright cyan light emerged. Two, unblinking glowing cyan orbs sat in either of its eye sockets. From the top and bottom of either of its eye sockets, a glowing cyan line ran down its armored face, and up to its forehead, where a thin, glowing concave crease laid. From the knuckles of its five armored fingers and thumb on either of its two hands, an additional thin, cyan line ran up to its wrists, where they met, and became two singular lines, that ran up either of its arms.

Worst couldn't quite see if Protectron had any more of these glowing lines on the rest of its body, as its torso was clad in an extremely large, dark blue Aloha Shirt, which was covered in images of tacky, bright green palm leaves. The shirt was tucked into a pair of long, large, beige slacks, which looked to be held to its waist by a tightened, dark brown belt.

"Misaka doesn't know what happened, before you ask. Misaka just saw the lights go off, and then the water sprinklers started; Misaka thinks it was the result of some weird fuck-up, probably the mall's fault. Misaka's thinking about suing," Worst rambled, as she looked up innocently at Aiho, who, by the facial expression she was staring down at Worst with, didn't seem to believe a word of it.

"Something like this happens, when you, and one of your friends are here, and you just happened to escape in time, Worst?"

Worst kept up the innocent visage, and she would continue to do so, for as long as she could; but she knew that Yomikawa Aiho was no fool. Aiho held up her hand, silently asking for her subordinates to stay behind, as she knelt before Worst, and looked into her eyes, with a serious expression.

"You can't fool me, you little prankster. I might just have to inform your guardian of your misbehavior; I don't have any real evidence, not yet, but… I just have this hunch."

Worst crossed one leg over the other, and rolled her eyes. "You don't have any proof; Misaka is innocent, you old lady! Go get the real bad guy!"

"In our friend's defense, Yomikawa-kun…"

"Protectron, you're getting your honorifics confused, again," Aiho chastised. "You've been living amongst us for this long; there's really no excuse. If you'd get that boy away from his computer for a few minutes, he might be able to teach you something."

"Apologies, Yomikawa…-chan?"

"Yomikawa-san will be..." Yomikawa Aiho sighed, and turned back to face the synthetic lifeform. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'd much prefer it if you referred to me as "Yomikawa-san", or, if you're more comfortable doing so, "Aiho".

Protectron shrugged, and stuffed its hands into its pockets, as it whistled; Worst thought it was actual whistling, at first, but she quickly realized that Protectron was just emulating the sound of a human whistling. "Water under the bridge! If I might continue, Yomikawa-san, I believe that, unless our friend can be found guilty through proper means, she doesn't deserve to be… grilled."

Aiho shook her head, and sighed in frustration. "Civilian volunteers…" Despite herself, Aiho found herself smiling awkwardly, as Protectron continued to whistle. "Worst, I've got my eye on you. If I find out you've been misbehaving, we're going to have a talk; you, and I, and your guardian."

"Tou-san won't do anything to Misaka; tou-san's a tsundere, and a big suck-up. If anything, tou-san will punish Misaka in a way that she enjoys, therefore nullifying the idea of a punishment! You're beaten on all fronts!" Worst gloated, as she folded her arms beneath her bosom, and held her head high.

Rising up, Yomikawa Aiho placed her hand on Worst's head, and ruffled her hair; Worst fought against the unwanted physical interaction, as her once-guardian chuckled. "Ruffian," she said softly, as she turned away from Worst.

"Protectron, ahead of us; I don't suspect terrorism, or anything of the sort. Still, if anyone's going to survive a trap, it's going to be you. I don't mean to sound like I'm throwing you to the wolves…"

The synthetic lifeform pulled one of its hands from one of its pockets, quite quickly, and raised it up, palm open and outstretched. 'Eyelids', made of the same metallic substance as the rest of its body slid downwards, blocking the light produced by its eyes, momentarily. "It's no trouble; I, Protectron, will find any and all traps, nefarious or otherwise. If it's… the other type of trap, there's not a lot I can do about that. That would be a hate crime; not that there's anything wrong with the other type of trap! Lovely people, I'm sure! I met a same sex couple the other day, in fact! We had a lovely chat! Wonderful folks! Anyhow, off I go!" The synthetic lifeform exclaimed awkwardly.

Aiho shook her head, as Worst cackled loudly. She'd lost her restraint at the synthetic lifeform's mentioning of "other traps". Protectron's elbows, and its calves began to glow blue, as it rose from the ground, completely silent. Oxygen in the air around Protectron was taken in, compressed by tiny turbines located within its calves, and elbows, then mixed with small amounts of internally-stored fuel, and then combusted. The synthetic lifeform rose up, until its two-toed feet were meters away from the heads of its Anti Skill compatriots. With a soundless burst, Protectron surged into the entrance of the underground mall; Worst's eyes followed the synthetic lifeform's movements, as best as they could. Its elbows seemed to be hollow, and glowed bright yellow, while there was a strategic, circular cut in the calves of Protectron's slacks, which made two glowing, hollowed-out circles visible.

"Way to send Dorkatron to do your dirty work; Misaka thinks she's beginning to rub off on you," Worst jabbed.

"He likes it, though," Tessou Tsuzuri spoke for the first time. Worst turned her attention to Yomikawa's right hand woman. Unlike most, Tsuzuri didn't shrink beneath Worst's glare. "I think it makes him feel accomplished, and, we've been trying to embrace civilian volunteers. It's symbiotic," Tsuzuri explained.

"Shouldn't Dorkatron be trying to kill us all with a robot army? Ranting about people being disgusting and stupid? Misaka's noticed that he's never even complained about "strings". Ah, who cares? Misaka doesn't. Misaka just wishes her idiot friend would hurry up," Worst commented.

Aiho turned to Tsuzuri, who raised an eyebrow, and shrugged awkwardly.

Kakine Teitoku's airborne Observer Unit buzzed around him, as it chirped excitedly. To any lingering humans, it would've sounded like nonsensical gibberish; but to Teitoku, coherent explanations were formed.

"Meep! Daddy, I find the evil one! Take you to the evil one now, yes?" The Observer Unit inquired, as it landed happily on Teitoku's outstretched fingers.

"If you would, I'd be grateful," Teitoku replied, as the Observer Unit landed atop his head. It placed its sharpened limbs against Teitoku's head, and dug them through his hair, and into his scalp; this caused Teitoku no physical pain. The Observer Unit's vision, memories, and knowledge became one with Teitoku's own, and, before him, a dull, smoke-like red trail formed. It took a right turn down a nearby hall, one that Teitoku, carried by his wings, followed. "The evil one has caused much trouble, daddy; we stop him, yes?" The Observer Unit asked.

"Evil" might be a bit of a harsh word, my friend. I would use a softer term, such as 'misunderstood', or 'impish', to describe him," Teitoku replied. Flashing past a pair of bathrooms, male and female, as well as a private breastfeeding room next to either bathroom, which his eyes looked to, as he paid mind to the existence of his own 'children' briefly, before he returned his attention to his task at hand.

For some time, the red trail continued. Teitoku turned corners, made zigzags, and, if the physical trail wasn't enough, he could've simply followed the sprinkler systems that'd been triggered. Teitoku created a small 'tent' of Dark Matter to keep his tiny companion dry, and placed it over the Observer Unit's form.

"Thanks you, daddy! Dry now!" The Observer Unit happily chirped in response. Kakine Teitoku allowed himself to smirk thinly, before his lips curled back into a determined frown.

Minutes passed, and, encouraged by the Observer Unit, who insisted that he and it were traveling in the right direction, Kakine Teitoku pressed on. The underground mall was beginning to seem less like a shopping center, and more like a labyrinth, where some terrifying beast would be kept.

Finally, after a fairly long, and particularly irritating search, the trail provided by the Observer Unit came to an end, as it detached itself from Kakine Teitoku. It buzzed around the Dark Matter user's head. Oblivious to their presence was the apparent mastermind of this insidious plot; soaking wet, humming quietly to himself, Yamashita Junichi walked.

Kakine Teitoku unmade the 'tent' that he'd provided for his Observer Unit, and, with a gentle pat, he sent the Unit on its way. Taking a breath, Kakine Teitoku performed a series of calculations within his mind. Ideas, and theories of what his predecessor might've done in such a situation presented themselves, but Kakine Teitoku ignored them, as he always did. The 'rhinoceros beetle' had worked for a decade to turn the identity of Kakine Teitoku, the Dark Matter user, the second ranked level five, into a heroic one. The 'rhinoceros beetle' wouldn't allow such work to be squandered.

"You've done enough, here. Surrender, stop this idiocy; what purpose do you have?" Kakine Teitoku demanded.

Spinning on his heel, Junichi's eyes widened, slightly; before his lips could part, he prevented them from doing so. Yamashita Junichi had stood before Accelerator, the number one ranked esper in Academy City, and had held his instinctual terror in check on more than one occasion. He would hold himself together again. He'd never show fear towards another person ever again. Whatever this strange, green-eyed, white existence was, he wouldn't let it see his fear, even if he had to acknowledge that fear was present.

"Okay, I get it. This is Academy City, I should be used to this sort of thing, by now. I've seen a weird-looking girl with fucking pins in her face, of all things, more than once in fact, going to go out on a limb here and assume it was the same one, and a weird mummy-man that looked like he… it… they, fuck it, it just stepped out of its local Illuminati blood sacrifice club, but this is just too weird. Are you even human?" Junichi inquired.

"In a manner of speaking," Teitoku replied, as his feet touched the ground. The heels of his pointed dress shoes clacked against the floor, the sounds of which resonated in the relative silence of this hallway of the underground mall. "I don't intend on harming you. I'll restrain you, if I must, but no harm, lasting or otherwise, will come to you. Considering that we've only just met, it may not be worth all that much, but, you have my word… I won't harm you, but I will stop you."

"I've always wanted to be the bad guy; well, I mean, not really. Did you ever hear about the level zero who punched Accelerator-san's lights out? Nobody even knows how they did it… I'd rather not be hit by that. I've heard the level five, Mental Out's married to a level zero, but… that can't be true," Junichi rambled. "Okay, that's enough. Friendly fight? You against me? No hard feelings, right? Loser buys the winner a drink. I'm just trying to have some fun today; you know?"

Kakine Teitoku found himself smirking, slightly. His cheeks rose up, and he blinked. The young man seemed to mean well enough, for someone who had inconvenienced an entire shopping mall. Teitoku considered, for a moment, that inconveniencing them was all he'd done. All things considered, it was a harmless practical joke. A mean-spirited one, but harmless, at least on a physical level.

"I have heard about "that level zero." They're quite the individual; they're the subject of many a rumor, some of which are truth, and some of which are pure fiction. So much has swirled around this… mysterious identity, "that level zero". No one knows their true name, or their face, it seems, yet they've done the unthinkable, time and time again.

"But, pardon me. You requested a challenge of me, and I so rudely got sidetracked. If out of nothing but wanting to atone for my rudeness, I accept, so long as, should I emerge the victor, you'll solemnly swear to stop this mischief of yours."

Junichi smirked, and, from the palms of his hands, embers began to take flight. "Alright, works for me. I think I can roll with this. Rude? Nah, don't worry about it, I wouldn't mind talking about the subject another time, actually. Someone, or, something? Don't really know what you identify as, like you must know a lot about the weird shit that goes on around here."

"A moment," Teitoku spoke. "In order to prevent property damage, I'm going to box us in. This will only take a minute."

From Kakine Teitoku's outstretched fingertips, long, string-like globs of Dark Matter began to fly. With perfect precision, Teitoku began to plaster the walls, ceilings, and the floors beneath he and Junichi's forms with white, nonexistent Dark Matter. Clumps of Dark Matter merged together, and crawled towards one another on the walls, and strung themselves together on the ceilings.

Meters of the hallway, from one end to the other, were plastered with Dark Matter, until, as Kakine had stated, the two were boxed in. Walls formed at either end of the hallway, and, somehow, despite the fact that the synthetic lights of the underground mall's ceilings had been blotted out, light still shined into the espers' enclose without issue.

"Okay… suddenly feeling unsure about myself, if I'm being honest. What even is this stuff? Going to avoid making the obvious 'it's semen' joke. I feel like a child just for thinking about that," Junichi admitted.

"In a way, it's similar, though only in the sense that, to a degree, it contains the seeds of life that can potentially bloom," Teitoku explained. "I'll be striking first. Prepare yourself."

"Thanks for the heads up; I expected you to just kind of… blast off. Seriously, that's cool of you," Junichi responded. The crackling, twisting embers in his hands, with a series of mental calculations, became monstrous, roaring pillars of flame. Kakine Teitoku gave an impressed nod, and, propelled by a single beat of his wings, he lunged, with his arms outstretched, glaive at the ready.

Junichi planted his feet against the soft Dark Matter beneath him, and, empowered by his will, his pillars of flame were lengthened, increasing in their width from his palms. Clinging to the nearby wall of Dark Matter, Kakine Teitoku fluttered out of the way of both, and, willing the serrated, bladed tip of his glaive of Dark Matter to become blunt, soft and harmless, he struck from the side. The weapon practically squeaked as it struck Junichi's hip, knocking him away, and disrupting his pillars of flame. Junichi bounced harmlessly against the soft wall of Dark Matter, and his the equally soft, almost squishy floor beneath him. He bounced against it once, then twice, before he managed to get to his feet.

"Alright, okay, yeah! That was cool, right on. Going to try and get those wings off you; I mean, unless they're, y'know, part of you, in which case, forget I said anything," Junichi rambled, as orange, crackling flames began to crackle around his hands.

"I welcome you to try!" Teitoku replied heartily, as he took flight. Junichi kept himself moving in order to avoid being a sitting duck, and observing his surroundings, and, more importantly, attempting to find some sort of weak point in his friendly foe, he began to contemplate. The white existence had manoeuvred around Junichi's pillars fairly easily, so, this foe quite obviously had agility on his side.

A lightbulb lit up in Yamashita Junichi's mind's eye, and, an idea formed; he barely had time to execute it, however. Kakine Teitoku was upon him. From Teitoku's fingers, globs of Dark Matter spewed onto the ground, and, as it being spun and moulded by the hands of an invisible potter, it began to take form. The device being formed by Teitoku almost resembled some sort of turret; it had three legs, which supported its 'head'; circular in shape, and with a circular barrel that almost looked as if it'd been made out of balloons, the turret's head began to glow green, as it clicked into action. With blinding speed, the turret's barrel followed Yamashita Junichi's movements.

"You can just MAKE things? Things that actually WORK?! That is… that's so cool. What else can you make?! Anything?! Hahaha, man, that's so COOL!" Junichi exclaimed excitedly.

He suddenly became less excited when the turret began to fire a consistent stream of soft, and harmless, but annoying orbs of Dark Matter at his form. Its accuracy was without rival, at least in this situation, and even when Junichi loosed a torrent of twisting, roaring fire upon the turret, and the orbs it fired, the device simply regenerated, and shrugged off any damage it received.

Distracted by the antagonistic turret, Yamashita Junichi never saw Kakine Teitoku's assault coming. The Dark Matter user's glaive crashed against his chest, and, with considerable force, knocked him off his feet, and against the soft, bouncy floor of Dark Matter.

"Perhaps, a little bit impish of me, I must admit; but you seemed to be enjoying yourself," Teitoku laughed. Junichi rose up, and smirked, chuckling with genuine mirth.

"Impish?" More like dickish, but, that's cool; there's something I've been wanting to try out, to be honest, and there really isn't a better time. It's something I've been practicing. I'd like to see it gain some practical use. More of a self-defence mechanism than anything," Junichi commented, as he recovered from the blow.

"Be my guest."

Junichi concentrated, and, with some effort, began to perform the calculations, and, more importantly, the sub-calculations required for this particular technique. Directing the fire produced by his Personal Reality towards his own body, Junichi's calculations came to a close, and, holding them in place within his higher mind, the crackling, orange fire held in the palms of his hands rose up, and swirled around him. It enveloped his entire form; from the top of his head, to the bottoms of his shoes, Junichi was encased in a protective suit of surging, roaring flames.

"You're certain that you'll be alright?" Kakine Teitoku inquired, worriedly. He raised a hand to his chin, and observed the burning man before him. Though Junichi didn't answer, he raised a hand, and gave the Dark Matter user a thumbs up. Slowly, and with great caution, Junichi began to walk. His body appeared to have grown considerably larger, and quite plumper – Teitoku reasoned that his foe had ensured that a few feet worth of space was between him and the flames.

With a beat of his wings, Teitoku spun, as he performed a nosedive, glaive at the ready. Fiery hands held apart at his sides, the burning man that Yamashita Junichi had become hurled at Teitoku two roaring plumes of fire, both of which were avoided. Another set of plumes were hurled by the slowly moving Junichi, and then another, as Teitoku closed the distance between them, only being struck by the final two plumes. His body was charred by the plumes, though, protective globs of his Dark Matter quickly suffocated them, and his body rejuvenated, much to the surprise of Yamashita Junichi who, unable to voice his shock, simply responded by attempting to pick up his pace, despite his clunky flaming armor.

Kakine Teitoku's turret sprung into action; from its barrel, a constant stream of Dark Matter orbs began to pelt Yamashita Junichi's body. Though singed upon impact, the orbs did manage to penetrate Junichi's flaming armor, and continually pelted him, dissipating into nonexistence as they did so. Teitoku landed before Junichi, wings retracting into his back, as Teitoku swept the pyrokinesist off of his feet with a swing of his glaive. Tendrils of Dark Matter emerged from Teitoku's form, and grasped the glaive in their firm, sure grips.

His calculations disrupted by the blow, Junichi's armor of flame had dissipated. Though the Dark Matter beneath him had absorbed what would've been a painful blow, the pyrokinesist still rubbed his forehead as a headache formed.

"Yep, you're tough. You, are, tough shit. My dearest thanks, oh mighty one, for not, you know, just killing me on the spot… unless that's the final step of your evil plan," Junichi commented.

"No evil plans, here; but we did have an agreement, did we not? I believe your 'criminal' career has come to an end," Kakine Teitoku stated, as two tendrils of Dark Matter gently lifted Junichi to his feet, before they returned to their creator's side.

"Yeah, I guess we did, didn't we? Alright, yeah, no problem. I agree. Pinky swear?" Junichi mockingly asked, as he dusted himself off, starting from his shoulders, and ending at his waist.

"I'll take your word. Don't think you can double-cross me, either," Teitoku smirked, as the Dark Matter around the two began to fade, revealing the underground mall beneath, "I have eyes everywhere. It's my duty to protect Academy City, and all who call this place home; that includes you. Should you need me, simply call out for the aid of the rhinoceros beetle, and he'll come."

"Listen, man… I do some… private things, in my alone time. Could you, not spy on me? Any other time is pretty much perfectly acceptable," Junichi grumbled, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, and, turning away, offered a wave. "Seriously. I close the blinds for a reason."

Yomikawa Aiho and Tessou Tsuzuri, with their juniors behind them, scouted the underground mall's halls, which were slowly being repopulated, after the internal downpour that they had been subjected to. Shops were beginning to re-open, and, as they 'secured' the food court, Tsuzuri turned to her Commander.

"Yomikawa-sensei, mall security seems to have everything under control," Tsuzuri pointed out. Indeed, the underground mall's security force seemed to be having few issues with keeping the situation under control. Those that were in the food court were ensuring that things remained orderly, as food vendors began to re-open their shops, and the lines that had been disturbed began to reform. Though they weren't aware, some distance back, Climaxxx had re-opened for business, its proprietor eager for potential customers, preferably of the opposite gender.

"If we can find Protectron, and get a report from him, we can finish our rounds, and leave the situation to… local law enforcement. I can only assume that, in the initial panic, Anti Skill was called by a distraught civilian who thought themselves to be in the midst of a terrorist attack," Aiho explained, to which Tsuzuri found herself nodding in agreement. Producing her P-Phone Sx, she enabled the 'radio' function, and attempted to contact the synthetic lifeform who often chose to ally itself with her cause.

"Protectron, come in. It's Yomikawa. Status report, please?"

"Oh, hello, Yomikawa-san!"

Aiho began to grit her teeth when she heard what sounded like the blips, bloops, and loud, obnoxious ringing of arcade machines; she could even hear the pre-recorded lines some of said machines would shout in order to entice potential players to spent their hard-earned cash. Not helping Protectron's potential case was the symphony of excited yells in the background.

"Protectron… where are you?" Aiho inquired, attempting to keep her cool.

In a certain darkened arcade, somewhere within the winding halls of school district seven's underground mall, lit only by strobing lights that slowly transitioned from blue, to green, then to red, and, finally, to white, before the cycle began anew with blue, a certain synthetic lifeform was squaring off against two oddly-garbed individuals.

The game was quite simple; it involved using a bright green, but rather realistic-looking assault rifle peripheral to blast away zombified corpses, in a dull, moonlit graveyard setting. Swarms of bats would occasionally flutter past the enormous, dark yellow moon, and creeping, wriggling moss danced across the tops of damaged gravestones.

"This is absolutely unfair! There is no way that I could possibly best this… golem! Not to mention that I've never wielded a firearm!"

"Don't hate because he… it… clearly has more experience points than you! Still, my enemy is pathetic."

"Fall to me, strangely-clothed people! You cannot defeat Protectron!"

One of these individuals was a drop dead gorgeous young woman, who had the mannerisms and attire of a princess. Shoulder-length, curly blonde hair adorned her head, as did a white tiara. Her skin was white, pale, and very smooth-looking. The young woman possessed bright, big greenish-blue eyes. Over her body, she was clad in an ornate, knee-length, frilly dress, and a pair of shining, jewel-encrusted stilettos.

The second of these individuals, if Protectron didn't know better, it would've thought to be a female; though smaller in stature than most, he was a young man of considerable spunk, and seemed to be easily excitable. His hair, like his compatriot's was golden in coloration, though his was much longer. It fell to his back, and, its bangs were side swept. He was dressed in a skin-tight, golden hooded jacket, and a pair of black sweatpants, with golden stripes that ran along their thighs, and down to the bottom of their legs. As if to purposefully clash with the golden and black motif, he wore chocolate-colored, tightly tied up work boots.

All three of the individuals in question were quick in their movements; Protectron and his second foe appeared to be tied in their speed, though, to onlookers who had gathered around the odd sight before them, Protectron's arms seemed to be moving slightly faster, though this could've simply been an illusion; to some onlookers, the synthetic lifeform's arms moved so fast, in fact, that they looked like a blur. Three dimensional models of zombified corpses fell to the trio's onslaught, as each continued to rack up points, and gained power-ups.

"PROTECTRON!" Yomikawa Aiho's voice roared in Protectron's thoughts; such was the downside of having cellular communication abilities built into one's head.

"Ah, yes… forgive me, Yomikawa-san; I am, err, ensuring that civilians are… err, protected," Protectron rambled, distracted by the great, fifty-inch screen looming in front of it.

"Protectron; I will find you, and though you don't have ears, I will drag you back with me. Better yet, I'll tell that Saten you're so fond of that you've been misbehaving…"

Though Protectron had no real reason to fear its temporary superior, the synthetic lifeform shuddered, slightly; when Yomikawa Aiho was enraged, she was a terrifying sight, or, in this case, sound. Moreover, the idea of being exposed to "her" as a no-good slacker was a truly terrifying one. Jamming its plastic weapon back into the holster that was attached to the arcade machine, Protectron shrugged its shoulders in exasperation.

"You win this time, but I, Protectron will return, and when I do, we'll settle this, once and for all!" the synthetic lifeform snarled, as it pointed a finger at the two oddly-garbed individuals.

"You have considerable experience! I look forward to beating the shit out of you, and taking it, golem! I, Thor, will utterly defeat you!" The young man proclaimed.

"Please…" the young woman sighed, as she hung her head in embarrassment. Her head suddenly snapped up, as she realized what he'd said, in Academy City, the City of science, skepticism, and, more importantly, a City that was on the "Other Side". Pupils shrinking, the young woman's head whipped to one side, to face her companion.

"Thor? Son of Odin and Fyorgyn, god of sky and thunder? Impossible! The stuff of mere myths, tall tales told by Scandinavian wanderers, in an attempt to explain natural phenomenon around them!" Protectron commented, as it swivelled its head to one side on its thick neck.

"Ah! We're… we're role-players. We are very dedicated to the, hm, characters we role-play as; my close friend, here, role-plays as the "character" of Thor! I, on the other hand, role-play as the "character" of… Cendrillon! We don't often break character, you see, golem!" Cendrillon explained, as sweat began to drip down her forehead. She forced a smile, but she felt the corners of her lips shaking, as it threatened to falter and expose her charade.

Protectron shook its head, and shrugged indifferently. "Good luck with that, then!" The synthetic lifeform took its leave, each step producing a soft, mechanical hum.

"You… are an idiot, a blundering simpleton, an imbecile." Cendrillon hissed, poised to violently slap her compatriot, who reeled.

"How is this my fault?! It was an honest slip-up! I don't have experience with THIS!" Thor cried, as he fled from the raging Cendrillon. Onlookers, three of whom took the duo's spot at the Zombie W machine, broke out in laughter, speaking of "tsunderes" and "cute girls".

All except for one young man in particular. To this young man, what had transpired was blasphemy, a swift, insulting slap to the face; the fetching young woman hadn't even spared him a glance. Even in a locale such as an arcade, HIS arcade, he was dressed to impress, as he always had to be ever since he had been "infected"; he sported a tight-fitting, dark suit jacket, which was accented by dress pants of the same coloration, and a pair of brown leather shoes, which wouldn't have looked to be out of place in a business environment. This young man's name was Osamu Yuki, better known as the Harem King. Though he had no knowing of it, he had become the newest Host of the once-hostless Kami Disease.

"King! Whatever could the problem be? You look so distraught!" One of many young women who gathered around him pried, a worried expression on her face. She hovered around the Harem King, as if she were a fussy maid.

"Distraught? No. I'm just frustrated. MY arcade is usually ripe for the picking; today, the one day I decide to personally show myself, and the only potential dick toy doesn't even look in my direction. Unthinkable," Osamu, the Harem King replied.

"Let us take care of you, King!" Another exclaimed, as she clung to his arm, short brown hair brushing against him. Osamu cringed. They were all so servile, so willing, so eager. It made the Harem King sick. These cows would bend over at a moment's notice and take him. Why? Because he'd saved them? Surely, they had some dignity? Some sense of pride? They practically objectified themselves. Still, pleasure was pleasure, even if it came from unthinking mules. Wordlessly, the Harem King snapped his fingers, and his subjects stood at attention; he saw their chests move as they did so. To Osamu, their bosoms flopped about like water balloons pinned to wooden boards. As the Harem King took his leave, his "herd" of handmaidens followed.

Misaka Worst, who had laid herself out on the bench she'd been sitting on for what felt to her like hours, had the sun she'd been bathing in blotted out, by a rather exhausted-looking pyrokinesist, who loomed over her.

"Minion! You've kept Misaka waiting!" Worst exclaimed, as she sprung up; her forehead nearly crashed against Junichi's own.

"Yeah… Ha. Do I ever have a story to tell you, holy shit," Junichi mumbled, as he rubbed the back of his neck; by this point, it was beginning to feel rather sore. "Also, what's in the bag?"

Worst shot up from her seat on the bench, stumbling slightly as she did so. As the blood drained from her skull, and sank back into her lower body's veins, equalizing in its distribution, Worst turned to face the worn-out pyrokinesist. "Nothing you need to know about, minion. Tell Misaka on the way; since her master plan has come to a close, PRANK no longer has a purpose in this place… we should give things some time to cool down, before we strike again!"

Junichi nodded reluctantly, as the duo began to walk; at this point, he just wanted to take a nap. Worst, on the other hand, seemed energetic as ever. With a wide, toothy grin, Worst had whipped her phone out, and she appeared to be typing something up. The pyrokinesist spared the device's glass screen a moment of attention, and saw that a memo app was open. Even then, not even a day after their great "attack" on school district seven's underground mall, Worst was planning. She truly was the "worst".

"So, I saw Anti Skill down in the mall. Do you think we maybe, you know, took this a little too far? Someone actually called Anti Skill, Worst. Someone thought they were part of some sort of… actual attack? I'm kind of feeling a bit regretful," Junichi rambled, to which Worst merely clicked her tongue, and wagged her finger in his direction.

"Misaka's disappointed, minion; you're going soft, like tou-san. Man up! They don't know our name yet, but word's going to start to spread. We can start leaving propaganda, minion! Stuff like "PRANK is watching!" or, "PRANK; Practically Rotten Always Never Kleptomaniacal!" Worst gushed, as she chuckled to herself.

Yamashita Junichi stretched his arms, raising them over his head. He didn't know what to think; his mission had been a success, on a technical level. Yet, he didn't feel successful, at least, he didn't anymore. The feeling of accomplishment had faded, leaving the pyrokinesist feeling rather contemplative. "Do we even know where we're going? You said we should slow down for a bit, and I agree, but if we're not going to be PRANKing, what are we going to do? I'm easy, down for pretty much anything, here."

"What's there to really do? Misaka suggests that we return home, maybe to her residence, or maybe to yours. Misaka's… got some waiting to do, before her master plan comes to fruition, and Misaka doesn't want to spoil it," Worst explained, to which Junichi raised an eyebrow.

"How many 'master plans' do you actually have, Worst? You're worse than a supervillain," the pyrokinesist commented. Worst stuck her tongue out, and pocketed her phone.

Crossing the 'border' from school district seven, and into school district eight, the Kamijous could hardly tell the difference between the two districts. The couple knew that, at one point in time, school district eight had provided housing and other related facilities, such as food and clothing vendors for the City's teaching faculty; funnily enough, for the Kamijous at least, it had also once been the district in which many a married couple lived.

As with most, if not all structures in Academy City, most of the structures in school district eight were either bright grey, or dark brown in coloration, though there were some exceptions to this unspoken rule; a certain teriyaki stall was built mostly using wood and darker metal than what was usually used as a building material.

Kamijou Index had taken to climbing onto the back of Kamijou Touma, who she clung to, her arms and legs wrapped around his torso. The nun's chin rested on his shoulder, as she observed the sights and sounds around her, of people, of buildings, of animals, such as birds, and insects, some of which were small, white, and beetle-like in their shape. For Index, who had grown tired of walking, this was a much more comfortable alternative. Touma, who barely even felt Index's presence, was undaunted. In his left hand, he characteristically held Misaki's right, their fingers, as always, were interlocked. The breeze momentarily picked up, and passed over the faces of the Kamijous (with the exception of Othinus, who remained snuggled in Misaki's purse, still napping happily) as they walked. Misaki's bangs were gently ruffled, and strands of Touma's hair were lifted up from his head, before they soon found themselves falling back down, pulled by gravity.

As the breeze passed over her, Kamijou Misaki smiled contentedly, and took a deep breath; the sweet-smelling air caressed her nostrils as it was inhaled, and passed through her windpipe. Misaki didn't feel that it would've been possible to feel any happier, any more at peace, than she did at this moment. If she didn't have to watch where she was going, Misaki could've closed her eyes, and fell into the embrace of tranquility.

"Touma!" Index suddenly, and cheerfully spoke up, as she craned her head to look into the eyes of her guardian. Misaki turned to face her dependent, and offered her a warm smile, one which Index returned.

"Index!" Touma called back, the volume of his voice comically raised.

"You haven't been smooching Misaki for almost a half hour, so, can we run? Let's run!" Index suggested, before she gasped lightly. "Oh no, I hope I didn't jinx it…"

Touma chuckled quietly, shaking his head, as a small, mirthful giggle escaped from Misaki's closed lips. "Want to run, beautiful? If you can keep up, that is."

Misaki's eyes narrowed, and she smirked, as her starry eyes locked with her husband's own. With a crack of her knuckles, her well muscled arms were flexed. Thick, but distinctly feminine, and, more importantly to Misaki, powerful, her physique was years of dedication, and intense self-restraint made physical.

"Ready whenever you are, husband of mine. Index, could you hold my purse? I do not want Othinus to be shaken up, for all of our sakes," Misaki jokingly stated; Index nodded enthusiastically, as she took Misaki's purse from her, and slung it over her own shoulder. The couple nodded to one another, and, without so much as another word, they were off.

Touma's thick, powerful legs carried him quickly, as he swerved around an oncoming crowd; Misaki was already ahead of him. If Touma's legs had the advantage of being thicker, and capable of withstanding a bit more punishment, due to his body's bone structure, they were one-upped by Misaki's longer legs, whose graceful strides carried her longer distances.

Veering off the light brown, cobbled pathway, Misaki took to the grass, as Touma, who wore a giggling Index as a backpack followed behind. It seemed that, no matter how close he came to getting a few inches ahead of his wife, even if she was forced to swerve around passersby, she always took the lead back. Misaki never took her eyes off the road in front of her, ready to stop, or swerve at a moment's notice, prepared for just about any obstacle that could present itself.

"This used to be easier, I swear… you're getting… too strong…" Touma panted, as he and his wife were neck and neck; neither seemed to be able to outmaneuver the other, as they pushed their bodies to their respective maximum capacities.

"You will not be saying that this evening, I reckon," Misaki spoke as softly as she could manage, before she offered her beloved a sly wink.

"Trying to distract me, huh? Naughty… naughty. I'll win this thing, and then… well, I probably… won't do a whole lot, truth be… told," Touma spoke through slight panting, as Misaki broke their tie yet again. Veering from the grass and back onto the cobbled walkway, the couple could hear cheering from passersby; most were throwing their respective lots in with "Mental Out"; this didn't distress Touma in the slightest, even if it should have, to some degree. Instead, he was beginning to feel even more grateful, if such a thing was possible, that this wonderful, admired, goddess-like woman had chosen to spend her life at his side, forever faithful to him.

Filled with guts, as if the infinite resource was being poured into him from some outside source, Kamijou Touma pushed his body past the mental limits he placed on it. At first, he soared past Misaki, but, she quickly regained the lead; Touma was taken aback, despite himself. It'd been a while since he'd actually directly challenged his wife to any sort of physically exerting game. Held firmly and protectively in place by a specially designed sports bra, Misaki's bosom was anything but a bother, though, Touma had to admit that he liked to watch them bounce.

Shrugging those thoughts off, as he could pay more attention to them when their game had come to a close, Kamijou Touma continued his race. Misaki still remained ahead of him. She turned back, and flashed her well-known, cutesy pose mid-stride.

"Come on, Touma! I believe in you!" Index chimed from his back. "Misaki's tough, though… wow. It makes me remember when we first met, and she was so out of shape! Imagine that Misaki trying something like this, huh?"

"That's not something I can see… happening… Shokuhou… Misaki would've… made someone run the race… for her… or something," Touma chuckled through swift inhalations, and equally quick exhalations. "I like… it. Her strength makes her even… more attractive… beautiful!"

"Awww!" Index swooned, as her cheeks lit up; she nearly loosened her grip on Touma's torso as she squealed in happiness.

By the time the Kamijous arrived at Accelerator, Last Order's, and Worst's residence, the married couple had yet to break their tie; they'd crossed the area that had been roughly designated as the finish line in a tie. Coming to a halt at the enormous, dazzlingly gorgeous condominium that Accelerator and his family called home, the married couple had barely broken sweats. Misaki's rate of breathing was barely noticeably quicker than her normal rate, and, removing her hands from her hips, she took Touma, and, subsequently Index into an embrace, which her husband returned. Index returned the act of affection in spirit.

"That was so much fun! Thank you, baby, for the wonderful bout of exercise. I feel so… alive!" Misaki exclaimed, as she broke away, and puffed her chest out confidently. Touma allowed his eyes to fall south.

"It was my pleasure, beautiful. Staying in shape with you is great; we need to get around to doing stuff like this more often, we've been slacking off," Touma commented, as he extended his hand in an invitation. Misaki, smiling warmly, accepted, and took her husband's hand back into her own, where it rightly belonged.

Misaki's warm smile became a devious smirk. "You are aware that healthy, passionate sex burns up to two hundred and seven calories, every thirty minutes, no?" She inquired, as she licked her lips. Touma clicked his tongue repeatedly, in mock-disappointment.

"No good; your mind has been corrupted, Misaki-Sama; take it away, Index…"

"I will cleanse you of your sins, Kamijou Misaki!" Index exclaimed, as she leapt down from Touma's back. As she touched the ground, she shot a mock-angered pout in Misaki's direction, though it didn't last. The nun swiftly proceeded to break down into a giggling fit.

"Oh, my…" Misaki timidly spoke, as she reeled back, before she embraced her dependent; the nun returned her adoptive guardian's act of affection warmly, as her cheeks began to glow bright pink. Index's embrace tightened, and the nun closed her eyes.

"I love you, Misaki."

Something had happened; it felt funny to Kamijou Misaki. Not necessarily funny in a humorous way, but, funny in the sense that it brought an odd, but extremely warm feeling to Misaki's chest, and lower belly. Kamijou Touma told Kamijou Misaki that he loved her often, and she enjoyed each proclamation of his love more and more; each time he spoke his feelings, Misaki simply continued to fall head over heels for him. When Index said it, though, it was different.

Misaki quickly reasoned that it was a different kind of love.

"Index…? I-I love you too."

The young women soon found themselves being enveloped by a larger presence. The tall, comforting form of Kamijou Touma took them both into his arms, and they welcomed him into their embrace.

"Index, Misaki, you're both going to make me tear up, here… come on. We have company waiting for us." Index, eyes moist, and sniffling a couple of times took her place at Touma's right side, taking his arm in her own two arms, while Misaki re-took her husband's hand in her own, and nuzzled him, before they entered the lobby of the condominium, leaving the outside world behind.

"Accelerator? MISAKA MISAKA inquires, hoping that you're still awake."

"What, brat?"

"Nothing; MISAKA just wanted to make sure you hadn't fallen asleep while holding MISAKA, MISAKA MISAKA explains."

Accelerator had never been fond of the idea of 'spooning'; the male involved in the act of affection was, under most circumstances, allotted the position of "the big spoon", which meant that he would have little more than a tingling arm and a mouthful of hair to show for it.

The position he found himself in was slightly different, to his relief. Sprawled out on his couch, Last Order had snuggled her form against his; though she faced away from him, he had only one arm laid out haphazardly over her waist, the other was safely hanging over the arm of the couch. Last Order had placed both of her hands on Accelerator's arm, and she would occasionally nuzzle him.

"Why do you keep rubbing yourself against me, goddamn brat? You're acting like the other brat," Accelerator complained.

"MISAKA… MISAKA doesn't really know why; MISAKA knows it feels good, but, aside from that, MISAKA doesn't know, MISAKA MISAKA confesses, as she tries to stop the behavior that annoys Accelerator to some degree," the clone replied.

"I didn't say you had to fucking stop. If it makes you happy, you can do it, I really don't care." Despite the harshness of his voice, Accelerator didn't really know what was happening, either, or what he was feeling. In a way, he was grateful that the Kamijous were visiting; at least they could help him understand what was happening to him, and what had been happening to him, if he could actually manage to spit it out.

It was then that his phone began to buzz in his pocket; it vibrated against Last Order's posterior, and, for a moment, her heart jumped into her throat, as her wild, wandering mind thought it was something else. Something, a fuzzy, tingly feeling that sat somewhere between shame and ecstasy coursed through Last Order as she quickly jumped up from the couch.

Producing his phone, Accelerator looked down at the device's screen; he identified, then, that it was "The Hero" who was calling. Grumbling, but smiling awkwardly despite himself, Accelerator answered the phone, and put the device on speaker, as he sat up straight, and leaned back on the couch.

"Goddamn hero. You've got some fucking nerve showing up here. Heh… how've you been?" Accelerator inquired.

"Certainly can't complain, Accelerator-chan," Touma replied; on the other end, he was snickering, as Misaki stifled a giggle.

"Hi, Saviors, Index, and the Redeemed One, MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, happily greeting her dear friends!" Last Order spoke enthusiastically.

"Last Order! Hey! It's awesome to hear from you again, it's been a while, hasn't it?" Touma inquired.

Misaki followed up Touma's inquiry with her own. "Hello, Last Order; how have you been? As my husband said, it is always lovely to hear from you. Othinus is, too, but she is asleep."

"Get your butt ready! We're going to get into… shenanigans." Index said with a hint of deviousness. Accelerator rolled his eyes, but chuckled quietly nonetheless. Despite the oddness of their day together, Last Order was ecstatic to see Accelerator in such a cheery mood. She loved it when he was happy; she wished she could always seem him like this.

"MISAKA is ready and willing, MISAKA MISAKA states, explaining the fact that MISAKA's prepared for just about anything!" Last Order confidently replied. "MISAKA is good, Saviors, MISAKA MISAKA explains to the Saviors, so that they don't believe themselves to have been forgotten or ignored by MISAKA."

"I'll let you in; get the fuck up here, and get this brat out of my hair," Accelerator commanded, before he ended the call. Pocketing his phone, he rose up from the couch, with the aid of his crutch, and looked to Last Order.

"Last Order, have fun. Don't let all this weird, fucked up shit get to you, we can talk about it… whenever. Whatever the fuck is happening, it's not going to change anything. Got it?" Accelerator spoke, in an uncharacteristically soft tone of voice; it took Last Order back, at first, but she soon found herself smiling from ear to ear. She took her guardian into an embrace, and held him tightly.

"MISAKA will… MISAKA trusts you, and MISAKA knows that she would rather be experiencing this… these feelings… with you, than anyone else in the whole, wide world, MISAKA MISAKA confesses."


	9. Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onto chapter nine; this marks the end of the PRANK Arc, and the beginning of the Surfacing Arc! What, exactly, could be surfacing? There're a lot of potential answers, quite possibly more than one.

Before the Kamijous stood an elegantly-designed door, stalwartly guarding the condominium's entranceway, and the lobby beyond from unwanted intruders. Its frame was constructed with a bright silver, almost white metal, with light purple trimming. Within the confines of the frame, a tall, ornately-decorated pane of glass stood. Pristine in its condition, the family could faintly see their reflections in the glass.

The lobby beyond was wide, spacious, and lavishly decorated. The floors of the lobby were tiled with white squares; floral patterns were made up of black, white, brown and silver tiles, while the walls appeared to be made up of dark, light grey bricks that jutted outwards, creating an almost cottage-like appearance. The wall had a series of equally spaced apart windows, whose long panes of glass were just as elegant as the pane of the door that lead into the lobby proper.

To accent the lobby's apparent theme of choice, in the center of the lobby, placed within a wide pillar was a large, ornate fireplace. Convincing-looking, but holographic flames crackled within, likely projected by some internal computing device. Above the fireplace was a flat screen television, that was turned off, its remote set atop the fireplace. Set around the pillar, and the fireplace within were three large, comfortable-looking leather chairs.

"I still find it hard to believe that Accelerator lives here, of all places," Index commented, as she stretched her arms above her head.

"What're the chances that it was his "brats" who picked it out? We taking bets?" Touma inquired, as he stifled a chuckle.

Index giggled aloud, while a grinning Misaki shook her head, and softly ran her fingers over her husband's hand, as if to simulate a smack. "Do not tease, you."

Touma placed the palms of his hands together, and offered a respectful bow. "Forgiveness, Misaki-sensei!" He proclaimed, as he scrunched his forehead, and tightly closed his eyes in mock-concentration.

A giggle was torn from Misaki's throat; unable to hold back any longer, she placed a hand to her face, and turned away from the humorous sight.

There was a soft buzzing tone, suddenly. The door before the Kamijous clicked, and, though it didn't open automatically, a soft-spoken, robotic voice came over what sounded like a pair of loudspeakers that the Kamijous had neglected to notice, which were sitting in the four corners of the small room just outside of the lobby.

"Autolock Solutions anti-burglary system temporarily disengaged by tenant! Pleasant Springs Living would like to welcome you! Please, enjoy your stay, and, remember; It's Not Safe, If It's Not Autolock!"

"I'll be sure to get right onto that, Robot-Sama," Touma grumbled, as he gently pulled the door open. The young man held it for Index, and then for his wife, both of whom smiled warmly at him, much to his pleasure. Stepping inside, and allowing the door to close, and then click behind him, Touma scanned the area for an elevator, something that would've resembled his apartment complex's two-doored box.

Instead, Touma was reminded that the condominium in which Accelerator lived didn't have a "traditional" elevator car, or even a traditional shaft. There was no shaft at all; rather, there was a long, wide, translucent tube-like structure. Bound with bright, metallic reinforcements, the structure ended in a pod-like opening. Next to the tube-structure was a small, translucent panel, which had two ornate buttons – one that depicted a bright blue 'up' arrow, and another that depicted a 'down' arrow that was colored a darker shade of blue.

Pressing the 'up' arrow, Touma stepped away from the tube-structure. "Stepped into this thing a thousand times, it feels like, but I'll never get used to it. Still so weird," Touma mumbled.

"Get with the times, old man!" Index exclaimed; having sat herself down in one of the leather chairs surrounding the fireplaces, she leaned back, eyes closed.

"Dang-blasted whippersnappers," Touma spoke in a gravelly voice, full of mock-frustration. He narrowed his eyes, and gently shook his fist in the air. "Back in my day, we didna have any 'a these… wait, actually, we kind of did. Illusions, shattered."

"What comes around, goes around, my prince," Misaki softly spoke, as she took to her husband's side. Folding her hands and placing them at her waist, her starry eyes looked up at the tube-structure.

"I'll show you what "comes," Touma whispered, with a smirk. Misaki turned to face her husband, and, with a small grin, she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Now, I think I am interested," Misaki whispered back; Misaki wasn't aware of it, but Kamijou Index was quietly creeping up behind both she and her husband, with a wide, predatory grin of her own; the nun had been possessed by the distinct feeling that there were dirty little secrets to be heard.

"I want you, even if we made love this morning. I still want you, you turn me on so much," Touma whispered. Index stopped in her tracks; it looked as though Touma would turn his head. Not wishing to be caught, the nun backpedalled, and folded her arms, eyes looking about innocently. Touma's eyes fell south with hesitation, as he took a step closer.

"My eyes are up here, husband… oh, I see no point to such a pathetic charade; I love it when you get all pervy, aaalll for me. Would you like to touch them? Kiss, and lick them, maybe? They are yours. They get so sweaty, and, when they do, they stick together. Maybe, you could part them for me, and, then, with your face between them, you could…?"

"This is the Lewd Police! BUSTED! You're under arrest for conspiracy to commit the act of… getting nasty!"

Misaki spun on her heel, as did Touma. The Mental Out user grinned awkwardly, as her starry eyes shifted to look at her husband. Touma's eyes shifted in his wife's direction, and then back to the pointing, giggling nun standing before them.

"Dirty talk in public! My, my! You truly are depraved! I-I'm sorry… I couldn't resist!" Index spoke through giggles, as she stumbled back.

"Just you wait, Index, we'll get you back," Touma responded with mock-anger.

"I will cleanse you of your sins," came Misaki's reply. She quickly closed the distance between herself and her dependant. Gently, she ruffled the nun's silver hair.

The sound was quick, like a long object that'd been swatted at the air with considerable force. Touma instinctually started, as the capsule-like elevator suddenly arrived. A translucent, glass door on its surface swiftly slid open, the motion fluid.

"Our ride's here; all aboaaarrdddd!" Touma spoke up, as he stepped in. Misaki stopped messing her dependant's hair, and, stepping away, she quickly boarded the elevator. The prankish nun followed, smiling as she placed herself between her guardians. She took either of their hands in hers.

The capsule's door slid shut, and Touma tapped the bright blue, numbered button that corresponded with the floor that Accelerator's residence was located on. Within a fraction of a second following the input, it slowly began to build speed, as it rose from the ground.

Touma soaked up the lively interior of the capsule; the inner walls were adorned with what appeared to be a watercolor painting, which depicted a rural countryside, more than likely in a western country, given the English characters seen on the wooden entranceway to what appeared to be some type of fair, complete with a Ferris Wheel. Touma smiled at the sight of the wheel.

"Hey, baby," Touma stated, turning to Misaki, who smiled at him. "Heh… do I even have to say it?"

"If you would like to, I would encourage you to do so; I do. Of course I do, as I always will, husband of mine. The Ferris Wheel… of course I do. Where it all began."

"I still intend to keep that promise, beautiful. I'll always protect you, and I'll always protect our family."

Index nuzzled Touma's chest with the side of her face, and sighed contentedly. Misaki ruffled the nun's silver hair with her available hand, as she looked at the depiction. Though it was a static image, of a place that certainly wasn't Academy City, Misaki could still feel herself drifting back to that day.

Before her musing could continue, the capsule's speed began to slow, steadily. Before long, it had stopped completely, and the door slid open. As it did so, an additional panel that closed over the glass door slid back, as well; it took part of the bright, orange ball that sat in the painting's blue sky with it. The Ferris Wheel remained, and, as the Kamijous stepped out, Misaki paid it one last glance.

The floor of the condominium that Accelerator lived on, like all other floors, was circular in design. Along the beautifully painted walls, which, although not depicting any scene in particular, were still quite alluring, there was a series of metallic doors. Stepping out from the tube-like structure in the center of the floor, the Kamijous scanned their collective visions around, searching for unit number eighteen. Misaki was the first to lay eyes upon it, and began to move in its direction, while her husband and dependant followed.

Following a quick wrap on the door, Kamijou Misaki took a step back, hands folded at her waist. She moved them away, as quickly as they'd fallen, and adjusted her bangs, before she began to fuss with her top, momentarily.

"You look beautiful… you are beautiful," Touma stated softly. Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss to his blushing wife's cheek. Before he pulled away, he pecked her on the lips. For a split second, their tongues connected, but the married couple swiftly got a hold of themselves.

Kamijou Misaki's fingers brushed against Kamijou Touma's, "thank you, baby. You look handsome, and are handsome, as always."

The door to Accelerator, Last Order and Misaka Worst's residence flew open; Last Order stood, smiling brightly, hair tied up in a neat bun before the Kamijous. Clad in a short-sleeved, bright pink shirt, and a pair of comfortable-looking, white sweatpants, Last Order ran into the waiting arms of the Kamijous, who welcomed her.

"The Saviors, Index! The Redeemed One…? Where is the Redeemed One, MISAKA MISAKA inquires, searching for the Redeemed One, so that MISAKA can greet her, as well!" Last Order, held in the trio's arms, looked about.

"Ah, Othinus is slumbering; I will wake the One-Eyed Menace, though I fear that we will come to regret it," Misaki stated. Misaki reluctantly broke away from Last Order, and, reaching into her purse, she felt her fingers run over the smooth, silky skin of the former Magic God. Gently entrapping Othinus in her hand, Misaki carefully lifted her out, and placed the muttering, stretching Othinus on her shoulder.

"What is this? What is this place? Am I still… oh. We're at the Accelerator's residence. Hello there, Last Order," Othinus greeted, as she leaned back on Misaki's shoulder, and allowed her tiny legs to dangle.

"Awwwwwwwwweeehhh! She's still so CUTE! MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, squealing in pleasure at the sight of the Redeemed One!" Last Order proclaimed, placing her clenched fists beneath her chin. "But, ah, come in! MISAKA MISAKA offers, as not to seem rude."

"No worries, Last Order," Touma commented; he followed in Last Order's footsteps, as his family followed behind him. Holding the door, Last Order waited until her friends entered, and, she then closed and locked the door behind her.

The group of five left the entranceway, and, following Last Order's lead, walked into the television room, where the Kamijous found Accelerator, sprawled out on the couch, one leg dangling over the couch's arm. His neck looked bare, without the choker that was almost always bound to it; his crutch sat nearby, leaning against the end of the couch.

"Oi, Touma, Misaki, Index, Othinie? Othirina? Whatever. One-eyed brat… Othinus, that's it. Name fucking slipped me," Accelerator greeted, with a wave of his hand.

"Okay… sorry, not used to not being called "the hero", or any variant thereof, it's cool though," Touma spoke. "Oi, Accelerator. Good to see you."

"You and I have a lot to talk about, Last Order! LOTS!" Index exclaimed. Last Order happily nodded in the nun's direction; as Index ran towards the stairs that lead to the condo's second floor, Last Order moved to follow, but faced the Kamijous' direction, and her guardian's.

"MISAKA hopes to see more of you, before the day is through, MISAKA MISAKA says, expressing her longing for a visit with the Saviors and the Redeemed One!" With that, she excitedly chased her friend up the stairs, as she began to giggle, with joy, and excitement evident in the vocalizations.

Accelerator, with some effort, moved himself up from his sprawled position, and slouched in the right corner of the couch, crossing one leg across the other. "No need to fucking stand. Take a seat; everything in this place is yours, as much as it is mine, goddamn heroes."

"There we go!" Misaki teased, as she placed a hand on Accelerator's bony shoulder. Accelerator tilted his head to one side, offering an awkward, tiny grin. "It is so good to see you again, Accelerator-san."

"Really though, we've really missed you, Accelerator. We need to get together more often, get back into the swing of things, you know? Be adventurous? We're not old men yet," Touma joked. "How've things been, dude?"

"Fine, "dude", Accelerator mockingly replied. "Yeah. It's good to see you again, too. I'd get drinks, or some shit, but," the "top dog" motioned towards his crutch. "Stupid choker's still charging. Don't feel like hobbling all over the place."

"It's cool, I can grab something. What're you feeling like? Accel? Misaki? I'm sure I could figure out some way to get something for you, Othi-chan," Touma offered, which brought out an uncharacteristic chuckle from Accelerator.

"Touma. Fucking hero, ten years later, and you're still up to the same goddamn shit, aren't you? Never change. Just a soda," Accelerator spoke.

"A soda, too, please, baby?" Misaki inquired, smiling up at her husband.

"I'll live; I appreciate the gesture, regardless," Othinus stated.

Misaki, slowly and cautiously, as not to knock the tiny former Magic God from her perch, sat herself down in, rather than on the couch; as soon as her posterior touched it, she remembered why, exactly, it was that Accelerator spent so much of his time laying on it. Misaki's body practically sank into the shining, pristine couch. First, her legs sank into the cushion, then, her lower, and then upper back were the next parts to fall victim, with her shoulders not following far behind.

Othinus, as if on cue, climbed down from her guardian's shoulder, and landed in her lap, tiny legs folding, and then rising back up, as she regained her "full" height of fifteen centimeters. Like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, Othinus elegantly sat herself down, and, crossing one leg over the other, she placed her hands in her own lap.

"So. How've things been, fifth ranked? How's the hero been?" Accelerator inquired, crimson eyes shifting in their sockets, in Misaki's direction.

"Ah, things have been… so very well. Idyllic, as always," Misaki replied. "Touma has been well; he was quite exhausted, when he arrived home from his last day at work, before the weekend, and had to nap for a short while, but, there have been no other incidents, per say, aside from… encounters with the odd halfwit, or otherwise preoccupied individual."

Accelerator smirked, slightly. "The odd halfwit", huh? What sort of fucking "halfwits" are we talking about? I know all about "halfwits", fifth ranked. In fact, I'm sitting across from one."

Misaki giggled, before she began to wag her finger in the "top dog's" direction. "My, my; so rude! We all know what is beneath that gruff exterior, however."

Accelerator raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Nodding, Misaki raised her head, and closed her eyes. "We all know that you are, beneath all that tsun… so very dere."

Accelerator scoffed, and folded his arms. "Hardly, fucking fifth ranked. Now, tell me, what sort of imbeciles have you and the hero encountered? You've peaked my curiosity, for some reason. The brat is rubbing off on me, the one that's here right now."

"Oh, Worst is not present?" Misaki inquired. Othinus laid herself back, rolled over on her side, and, using the top that covered Misaki's toned torso as a pillow, she closed her eye.

"One-eyed brat fucking tired, or something? No, Worst isn't here. Out with one of her friends," Accelerator answered.

"Resting, albino. Resting," Othinus stated firmly. "When you live with these people, you don't tend to have a lot of extra energy. They're exhausting." The former Magic God's lips curled into a smile.

Misaki looked down to the resting, relaxed form of Othinus, so close to her belly. She'd curled into what looked like a vague, unconscious attempt at a fetal position. Misaki felt her heart beat just a little bit faster, as she felt the urge to gently place a hand on Othinus, and provide her with warmth, and comfort, even if she didn't seem to be in dire need of either.

Touma returned, three glasses of cola in his hands. He was walking quite slowly, with cautious footfalls, as he peered down at his right hand, like he didn't trust it. Misaki sighed, quietly. There was still "that" in the way.

"Drink delivery… eheheh, beautiful, could you grab one or two from me? You know how the "misfortune game" goes," Touma commented; his vision fell upon the resting form of Othinus, and, lips curling into a small smile, he made his way over to his wife, and to Accelerator. Cautiously, he handed his beloved her glass. Misaki leaned forward, and kissed her husband on the cheek, softly, but so lovingly. Then, placing his own down on the coffee table near the couch, he moved in the other direction. With Accelerator's drink safely in his left hand, he handed it to the "top dog".

"Thanks, hero," Accelerator remarked. He placed the beverage on the coffee table, and rolled his shoulders. The "top dog" found himself feeling oddly distracted. In the moment that Misaki had looked down to that one-eyed brat, her facial expression had changed. To Accelerator, it'd almost looked like one of longing. It hadn't lasted; as soon as her husband had returned, she instantly seemed to perk back up. Accelerator had a hypothesis.

"You bring another goddamn hero into the world, and you, and you alone, are going to be fucking responsible for all the deserving idiots who get fucking punched. Is that what you two want? Get rid of the hero's stupid hand. Don't let any fucking thing stand in your way."

"Thank you, everything," Misaki spoke. Touma sat himself down between his wife and Accelerator. Taking Misaki into an embrace, she snuggled into his chest, and closed her eyes. Misaki's arms wrapped themselves around her husband's waist, as she produced a soft, quiet noise that made butterflies flutter about in Touma's stomach. Looking at Misaki, Touma's smile grew wider. "You're adorable. You're so, so adorable."

Misaki kissed her husband, and then turned her attention to Accelerator. "Accelerator, forgive me; I never answered your question! Touma, you were telling me the other day, about the man at the stoplight?" Misaki spoke.

Touma shook his head, and chuckled softly, more to himself than to his wife, or his old friend; Accelerator couldn't help but smile at the display before him. "Goddamn hero. Goddamn fifth ranked. This is all you do… that's your thing, though. It's you. Never going to understand your weird harmony, but I can respect it, I guess. Beats all the fucking idiots who just sit around and fight all the time. There's actual goddamn love, so much of the shit that I could drown in it, here, not just… business."

"Yeah, oh, man. Reminded me of the Rookie, with all those women following him around," Touma began. He turned his head to face Accelerator, and rolled his eyes. "Get this, Accel, man. So, this guy in a suit – purple hair, of all the colors, purple, with all these women following him around, just straight-up bumps into me, at the stoplight near my apartment. No "oops!" No "sorry, man, my bad!" Wasn't going to go after it, not worth it, but, it actually really miffed me."

Accelerator clicked his tongue. "You realize that was what you looked like, before you got with the fifth ranked, hero? You were always being chased by girls, too. You weren't a dick, but you were still quite the sight to see."

It was then that something happened to Accelerator. It was strange to him, something he didn't often experience. The last time he'd felt this way, or had experienced this was when the right hand, curled into a fist of Kamijou Touma had, somehow, connected with his face, an impossibility. Accelerator, the "top dog" of Academy City, the number one strongest esper, shuddered. A chill went down his spine, as his body shook, ever so slightly.

If looks could kill, Accelerator would've been struck dead. Kamijou Misaki's brow had furrowed, and her eyelids had narrowed, partly obscuring her starry eyes. Her golden eyebrows sank inwards, and she'd raised the side of her upper lip, slightly. Her cheeks were raised, just a bit.

"B-baby? Beautiful? Cuddle-Boo? You're… uh, you look pretty… scary. Actually, you look… kind of like my… uh, mom. When she, uh… you know. Gets… mad," Touma awkwardly stuttered.

"Fucking… Cuddle-Boo? Goddamn hero." Accelerator mumbled under his breath.

"I learned from the best, everything," Misaki stated. "Rest assured, Accelerator… my husband's "admirers" know where they stand, and they know where I stand… where we stand."

"Nice death glare, fifth ranked. I'm liking it; keep that shit up, and every woman in Academy City will be scared to go near the hero," Accelerator commented.

"O-oh my; that's… that's not what I want at all! I mean, in a manner of speaking, ah, this is so… I am so embarrassed at myself," Misaki muttered, blushing brightly. "My instincts get ahead of me, sometimes, and…"

"Beautiful, it's okay. I know what you're feeling. The same thing happens to me, when I see someone's eyes following you, when we're out doing things together, especially if they're the eyes of a man; the important thing is, we understand what we feel, and we work everything out, as we always do, right? We don't let this sort of thing get in the way," Touma spoke, softly, and comfortingly. Misaki nuzzled her husband, as Accelerator watched on. He rolled his eyes, and then looked down to his phone, which he tugged out from his pocket. Internally, a part of him enjoyed the display; it was that harmony of theirs in action.

"Right, my love. That is right," Misaki responded. "That is oh so right. You always know just what to say. I trust you so much." The facial expression that had brought out some primal, instinctual terror in Accelerator's heart faded, as Touma gently rubbed his nose against his giggling wife's. The storm, as quickly as it had come, passed.

"I get it, too, fifth ranked. I get what you're saying. It's not that you want to fucking deprive the person, or people you love, of their life, or lives, it's… protectiveness, I guess. Fuck, listen to me," Accelerator stated, motioning towards the married couple. "I'm blaming this soft shit on you two."

Touma craned his neck, and turned his head in Accelerator's direction. He wore a facial expression of seriousness. "Accel, man, yeah… that's what it's about. You'd never want to stop the person, or, people, you love from living their lives, or from making friends. Misaki's got plenty of guy friends, and I've got plenty of girl friends, you know, friends who are girls. I imagine Last Order and Worst have guy friends, even though that's a different situation." Misaki nodded in agreement, smiling warmly.

Accelerator clicked his tongue, as he pocketed his phone. "Goddamn hero. You're going to make me talk about this shit, aren't you? Fucking…"

"I'm sure you fucking do, hero. If you don't mind… there's actually something that… fucked me up, that happened earlier." Accelerator craned his neck, and looked to the entranceway to the stars, that lead to the condo's second floor. With a sigh, he grumbled to himself. Touma couldn't really make out any coherent words, in particular, but Accelerator's grumbling was filled with a tone of rather sudden frustration.

Both Kamijou Misaki and Kamijou Touma faced Accelerator, expectant looks on their respective faces. Touma set himself into a more neutral position; a single arm remained around his wife's shoulders. She snuggled close to him, and brought her feet up to the couch's seat. Othinus slid, falling gently to the soft, leathery seat below. With a shake of her head, she curled herself back into a golden and pink little ball.

"I am listening, Accelerator-san, as always," Misaki spoke.

"Same, Accel. What's up? Everything good?" Touma inquired, not long after his wife's offer was vocalized.

"Yeah, I'm fucking fine. Some fucked up shit's been happening," Accelerator lowered his voice, and, with his vision gazing down at his lap, he produced a grunt. "Haven't really talked about this shit before. I'm not a 'talk it out' kind of person, but, I want to be. Holding this shit in is doing more harm than good. It's… about the goddamn brats. Getting older.

"I've been feeling fucked up things, things I shouldn't be fucking feeling towards them. Worst's always fucking throwing herself at me, teasing me, trying to get my goddamn goat. Last Order doesn't do any of that shit, but, she's… she's just… she's older, and now, she's getting… fuck. She looks, in a way, I guess…"

"Attractive?" Touma inquired, helping Accelerator find the word he'd been looking for. In line with Accelerator's, Touma's own voice had quieted.

Accelerator started, but didn't look away from his lap. He felt like an awkward, shy little child, confessing to some offense they'd committed. "Y-y… yeah. No, I mean, no. Not fucking attractive, not like that. Fuck, Touma, this shit's killing me. I… we fucking kissed, this morning. The bigger brat fucking egged her on, and she fucking kissed me. I-I didn't try to stop it. I'm sick, I fucking enjoyed it."

"You… kissed Last Order? Worst was responsible for setting this up? Doesn't really surprise me, Worst is, well… she's Worst," Touma mumbled. "That's, well, I can't really relate." Touma looked to his wife for support. Offering Misaki an awkward smile, he stated, "Misaki, you're a better talker than me."

"Please, do not sell yourself short; you have great communication skills, Touma," Misaki responded, before she began to answer her husband's call for aid.

"I think, Accelerator-san, this encounter might have felt bad, or, you may have felt guilty, because, that is the thought process you are applying to this situation. Your relationship with Last Order, and with Worst has always been moulded to be a certain way, originally by your once-guardians, and, then, as you began to grow with Last Order, and then with Worst, you began to apply this mould yourself.

"However; as you clearly realize, the three of you are growing, and changing. You are adults, now, with adult bodies; bodies that have certain cravings, which, I believe, you have locked away in a proverbial vault. Accelerator-san, do you feel that, if you were to "release" these cravings, that something bad would happen? To you, or to Last Order, or Worst, or between yourself, Last Order, or Worst?"

Accelerator nodded weakly. Misaki frowned, slightly. To Kamijou Misaki, it was an odd movement to see the normally confident, and, to an extent, even cocky "top dog" of Academy City making. "I don't… I don't want to destroy what I've built, with these brats. It's just safer to think of them as kids, even if, even if they're not fucking kids. Even if they're the farthest thing from it, even if I s-sometimes have these… sick, fucked up feelings for them. I'm frustrated, and… these brats are the only women besides Yomikawa and Yoshikawa that I've had any sort of physical contact with, I guess. It's all fucked."

"Accel, you ever consider hooking up with someone? Someone outside your circle?"

The inquiry made Accelerator chuckle, for a moment. "Fucking hero. Who would I "hook up" with? That dumbass necromancer? The nitrogen brat, or the foreign beret brat? The bigger one? I'm not a "hook up" type of guy, hero, and I know you're not, either. You never were, Touma. Always the loverboy… heh."

Misaki looked up, as if she'd thought of something important. Though Touma could see no lightbulb floating above her, he knew his wife's facial expressions well enough. "My husband's heart is in the right place, as it always is, but, Accelerator-san, when it comes to relationships, there has to be love there. Lust has its purposes, but lust alone can only get you so far, when you are involved with another. I think this is… something that you, Last Order, and Worst need to speak about at length, before you take any further steps, in any direction."

Accelerator smirked. Then, as the married couple looked on, he smiled. For the couple, it was a sign of Accelerator's growth. Even if he would continue to grow, and continue to change, the fact that he could openly smile served as a reminder of the changing times around them.

"Yeah. I know. The other brat's got some stupid fucking trick up her sleeve, I'm goddamn sure of it. I'll sit the two ass-pains down, and we'll… we'll fucking talk, I guess. I want to do the right thing for them, make them both happy," Accelerator spoke. "Let's talk about something lighter. Talked to the other fucking hero? Not the seventh ranked. Hamazura."

Touma didn't particularly mind the tonal shift; he felt oddly helpless. Accelerator was obviously distressed, and, yet there wasn't a lot he could do to alleviate that. As if she had some unknown sixth sense that linked her to her husband's thoughts and feelings, Misaki placed a hand on her husband's available hand, and smiled warmly at him. Touma returned the gesture, before he swiftly kissed her on the forehead.

"Shiage's doing good, as far as I know; a little on the busy side, we don't really talk all that much, but, when we do, always good times. Rikou and the kids are good, too. You know that Fremea's studying to become a teacher?" Touma responded, returning his attention to Accelerator.

"Heh… maybe she'll replace the teacher brat you two had, she'd probably cry a lot less," Accelerator scoffed.

"Komoe-sensei was… sensitive, but, she was, and still is, such a lovely person. Her heart is so full of love, for everyone and everything around her. If only all teachers were as dedicated to their jobs, and to their students, as Komoe-sensei was," Misaki remarked. "I am certain that, should Fremea pursue a career in education, she will be the same."

Touma stifled a chuckle, as he took a sip of his drink. Placing the beverage back down onto the safety of the table, he allowed the vocalization to escape. "Hey, beautiful," Touma spoke, turning his attention to his wife, "my dear little "Kamijou-chan."

Misaki giggled, as she reminisced. "Precious "Shokuhou-Sama". Oh, what a unique individual Komoe-sensei was. It was a shame that she had to put up with those two dolts."

"Aogami and Tsuchimikado? Yeah, but, it wasn't like she was alone; Fukiyose-sensei was on Komoe-sensei's side," Touma responded.

"Seiri? Black-haired girl, no nonsense? Miss her. One of your few friends that I could fucking tolerate, hero, fifth ranked," Accelerator remarked.

Touma's lips parted, before he shook his head from side to side, slightly taken aback. Misaki didn't seem to be quite as flabbergasted as her husband, but, she was looking at Accelerator with an eyebrow raised, and a small grin on her face. She'd hatched something of an idea. "Those two always did have a certain chemistry."

"Are you… interested… in Fukiyose-san, Accelerator-san?" Misaki inquired. Touma was quick to clue in.

"Don't really know all that much about this situation with Last Order. Don't really know if Seiri is, uh… free, either. He always did seem fond of her, though. Gotta admit. Misaki knows what she's doing."

"Interested, as in, interested? Dunno. She's cute, I guess. Never really thought about it. I know it was always fun to watch her kick the shit out of those fucking morons," Accelerator answered nonchalantly.

"Accel-chan called a woman cute; breaking news!" Touma exclaimed. Accelerator cringed slightly, as he thought of the implications; Last Order could hear, despite the thumping of her music from upstairs, and then, his life would get even more complicated.

"Fucking… hero," Accelerator grumbled. "Fifth ranked, get a fucking grip on him, would you?"

Misaki nodded, and, with a wink aimed in the "top dog's" direction, she rose up. Misaki placed her lips next to her husband's ear, which garnered his attention. Touma's eyes shifted to his wife's direction, as she began to softly whisper.

"Behave yourself, and you'll get another reward. I quite enjoy this 'system' of ours, if I do say so myself; be a good boy, Kamijou Touma, and, on our way home, we can run again. I will get myself all… sweaty… for you. Give you something to lick off, especially from this lower body of mine that you, enjoy oh so much. Maybe, you can go lower, beyond "just" these legs of mine… I will let you clean my whole body, with that tongue of yours."

Touma leaned forward, in an attempt to hide his tightening pants, and, with a nod, he piped down.

"Tch. Good work, fifth ranked. At least someone's got the hero on a fucking leash," Accelerator commented. There was a series of three short beeps that followed his statement. "Stupid choker's done charging. Fucking finally. Pisses me off… wish they'd fix my fucking brain, all the way." Accelerator, rising up, reached for his crutch. With it, he arose form the couch, and hobbled in the choker's direction.

Misaki grinned, as she placed her index finger to her chin. Tapping it, her starry eyes looked to the ceiling. "All the way?" Misaki inquired. "By the way, please, do not give me any ideas, Accelerator-san. I quite like the idea of that; a nice, long leash…"

"… so that I can make this handsome, perfect man of mine beg for me. I like the sound of that. Lots, and lots of begging. Unnff. I want you to beg for the right to touch me, my prince… Ah! Get your head out of the gutter!"

Touma's eyes widened, slightly, and he could feel his pants becoming even tighter. "E-eh?! What's this about leashes? I'm no fetishist… well, I guess I can't really say that, can I?"

Kamijou Misaki placed a finger to the tip of Kamijou Touma's nose, and, blushing slightly, she returned her lips to her husband's ear. "Be a good boy, and we can try all sort of things out; only if you are comfortable, of course."

Chuckling, Touma placed his available hand on Misaki's thigh, and gently stroked, from the top of her thigh, to her ankle. A part of him wanted to go just a little bit lower, to feel the foreign extremities that laid just beyond, those smooth, silky appendages that his manhood had been between more than once, but anything more than that felt like it would be far too weird to him, and, more importantly, to his beloved. That was something that fell in the realm of true fetishists, like Aogami, or Musujime; both Musujimes, in fact. Misaki raised an eyebrow, as Touma awkwardly seemed to freeze up in place, hand wrapped around her ankle. As Touma rose back up, almost nervously, Misaki leaned in, and, after kissing her husband's cheek, she whispered, "baby? Everything okay?"

With Accelerator's back momentarily turned, Touma was, at least free from any potential ridicule that could've come from his awkwardness. "Y-yeah, beautiful, I'm great. Talk, later? No big deal, just, uh, nothing important, I promise. Eheheh."

Misaki nodded, before she smiled warmly, and kissed her husband again. "Of course, Touma. As soon as the chance presents itself, I will give you my undivided attention," she softly, lovingly whispered.

"Have I not explained this shit before, fifth ranked?" Accelerator spoke; the married couple could hear the welcomed mirth in the "top dog's" voice. "Augmentative surgery. Cybernetics, or some shit. I can talk without it. Can't really walk without it, unless I have this fucking piece of shit under my arm, City probably doesn't trust me. Heh," Accelerator remarked. "Can't they see how much of a pussy you fucking heroes have turned me into to?"

"Ah, yes, I do vaguely recall such an explanation; not that I was not listening, Accelerator-san! Things are so busy, during the week, some retained information simply…" Misaki began to explain, but Accelerator, having hooked his choker back into the wires that dangled from the back of his head, snapped it around his neck, and flicked it on. Letting his crutch fall, he shrugged his shoulders. "I was fucking with you, fifth ranked. It's fine. I get it, you and the hero have a life. No need to explain yourself."

Accelerator sat himself down on his end of the couch, and grabbed his beverage from his coffee table. Taking a sip, he held it tightly in his right hand, and, placing it on his knee, he shook his bangs from his face.

"So, what the fuck are we doing? You just dropping the nun off so you can go home and fuck?" Accelerator inquired, as he grinned malevolently, almost knowingly. For the married couple, it was as if Misaka Worst was looking at them.

"Can't say that was the plan, Worst, but, I don't mind the idea of that, to be honest," Touma spoke, as he turned his attention to his wife. Blushing, she shook her head from side to side in mock-disapproval.

"Eyes on the prize, hm, Kamijou Touma?" Misaki inquired. "In all seriousness, however, for my family and I, what, exactly, we are going to do today is up in the air. We are easy with just about anything. We would welcome you to join us, of course, Accelerator-san."

Accelerator grunted, before he took another sip of his drink. "Worst"? I look like a brat to you? Brats don't have to come with us, I guess. Everyone knows better than to come within a hundred feet of this place. We can figure something out, some sort of stupid shit to do."

"Like hooking you up with Fukiyose?" Touma teasingly pried; Misaki failed to stifle a giggle, as she gently, and softly smacked her husband's right cheek. Touma responded by removing his arm from around his wife, and softly pinching both of her cheeks.

"Tch. Fuck off, goddamn hero," Accelerator laughed. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea. Would be more fucking normal than doing anything with… them. Seiri always was kind of cute… fun…? To talk to. Goddamn fucking heroes. Making me soft like this."

Index, with her hands on her hips, stood tall before Last Order, who had laid herself out on her bed's comforter. "So, let me get this straight. Just, to summarize; you kissed Accelerator, and, then you realized you liked it – you realized you wanted more – and, now, you don't quite know what you've gotten yourself into. Is that it? Do I have the basics?"

Last Order nodded in confirmation. "That's right, MISAKA MISAKA says, confirming that her friend's summary of the morning's events is correct."

Index gave a nod, and then sat herself down on the edge of Last Order's bed. Index's vision met Last Order's, and, with a deep breath, Index prepared herself. Switching gears, she entered 'lecture mode'.

"Last Order, if this is what you want, you need to go after it! Don't let it slip between your fingers, babe! If you know that you love Accelerator, in this way, in the way that would take your relationship with him to new technical heights, you need to make him yours!

"When you two first met, things were different, right? Very, very different. Darker. You're both older, now, smarter, your bodies need certain things! Aside from not really being able to see you with anyone else, if I can be honest, I think Accelerator is just confused. I think you need to have a chitchat!"

Last Order nodded, somewhat weakly. Her facial expression wasn't betraying any sort of internal strife. If anything, since she'd began talking to Index, Last Order was, in fact, feeling a lot better about everything that had occurred in the morning, prior to her arrival.

"MISAKA agrees; MISAKA doesn't want anyone else. MISAKA is… is, in love with Accelerator. MISAKA has been, for a long, long time. MISAKA assumes it was the inferior unit's push that drove MISAKA to take the actions that she took. MISAKA doesn't know what the inferior unit's planning, but, MISAKA knows that the inferior unit knows that she can gain something from this, MISAKA MISAKA explains, hoping that she doesn't sound long-winded."

"Oh, no, not at all, Last Order; I'm glad you're talking to me about this. You seemed pretty eaten up over it, when we first started talking. You're one of my best friends, and all I want to do is help you feel better!" Index said happily, as she ruffled Last Order's chestnut brown hair. "Trust me, I think you need to go for it. I think Accelerator feels the same way, but, he doesn't want to let go of the past. I can imagine why, there's… there's a lot in his past that he feels that he needs to keep close to his heart. I get that, Last Order, I really, really do. But you can't dwell in the past forever. You have to make new experiences. You can't forget the past, but you can't be consumed by it."

Last Order's eyes shifted back towards her friend's. With an awkward smile, Last Order gently rose up from her bed, and took her friend into her arms. Index quickly returned the friendly embrace, as locks of her silver hair brushed against Last Order's chestnut brown locks.

"T-thank you, Index. You always make so much sense! You just know these things… MISAKA wishes she had all the answers, but MISAKA doesn't. MISAKA needs to help Accelerator let go of, but always remember what happened when he was in… the Dark. The Dark will always be here, but, MISAKA can help Accelerator beat it, just like she did before. MISAKA and Accelerator can overcome the Dark, MISAKA MISAKA says, as she feels like she is filled with determination."

Index pulled away, but kept her hands on her friend's shoulders, as she blushed. "A-ah! I don't know e-everything about everything! I kind of have an unfair advantage, in that regard. Watching Touma and Misaki love each other has given me a lot of knowledge about this sort of thing, about, understanding, and talking things out."

"The Saviors do have a harmony beyond measurement, don't they? MISAKA MISAKA rhetorically asks, not expecting her dear friend to have an answer to MISAKA's inquiry," Last Order replied.

Index smiled, as she stood up from the bed, and folded her arms. "I think you and Accelerator would have something similar. Accelerator's a little bit… rougher, around the edges, than Touma is, but it's way too easy to see that he adores you, and you're so easy to please, and easygoing, and pretty much just one of the best people to be around, ever."

It was Last Order's turn to stand up from her bed. Stretching her back, and holding her hands high above her head, fingers interlocked with one another, she groaned in relief as she did so. "MISAKA is f-flattered! MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, lightly blushing due to her dear friend's kind words."

Last Order faced Index, as she fiddled with her phone, for a moment, before she stuffed it into her pants pocket. "How have the Saviors been? What about the Redeemed One? MISAKA MISAKA inquires, asking a second time, as, now, MISAKA feels that it is less of a formality."

"Great, and great! Touma and Misaki always kind of are, though… when Touma's not working, and when Misaki's not doing stuff with the City, they're constantly together, always so… so positive, and loving! It's crazy; I don't really know how they do it. I guess that's just their love," Index explained. "Othinus has just been doing Othinus things. Being little and playing video games, mostly Bloody Fist, lately. Fighting with people on the Internet, you know how it is… speaking of Touma and Misaki, though, now that we're together, there's something we have to go over."

Last Order raised an eyebrow, but didn't interrupt.

"Like I said in my text, we might just need to resurrect PROTECT; Birdway-san, not Patricia, the other one, is, apparently, still a threat. I don't know if she's been disarmed, but I think, or, at least, I hope that she's not like… the Problem, anymore," Index stated.

"The Problem… is it in Academy City? MISAKA MISAKA inquires, preparing herself for a potential worst case scenario," Last Order responded, as she titled her head to one side. Stray locks of hair from Last Order's bun fell, as her head tilted.

Index shrugged. "I don't know. I might have to ask Hyouka to keep an eye open; she can get around quicker than you or I can, and, if she spots the Problem, she can get the drop on it; she's aware that we might have to bring PROTECT back, but we haven't really gotten anywhere, in terms of planning. I'm willing to bet that Fremea might be able to persuade Teitoku to watch for the Problem. I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"We could call Kazakiri-san, or text her, if you're worried about it, MISAKA MISAKA suggests, as to potentially catch the Problem red-handed," Last Order said, as she began to pace. She quietly muttered to herself, as she went over possible means of 'trapping' the Problem.

"I don't see why not; here, for the sake of convenience, I'll just call, and put her on speakerphone. I could call Fremea, too, maybe Ruiko. If the Problem is here, or if Birdway-san decides to show up, all five of us might be needed," Index explained; she extended her hand. Last Order understood the gesture, and placed her phone in Index's hand without hesitation. Index quickly navigated to Kazakiri Hyouka's contact information, and, from the Last Order's phone's contacts app, Index initiated a call.

Last Order's phone produced it's soft, buzz-like 'connecting' tone, for a few moments, before the receiver of the call answered. Apparently, Hyouka wasn't out prowling. Index pressed her thumb against the speakerphone option, and offered the device back to Last Order, who shrugged indifferently. Index turned it back towards her being.

"Last Order! Hello!" The voice of Kazakiri Hyouka said, happily. "I sincerely apologize for not being able to…"

"Aaaah, shaddap!" Index exclaimed; Hyouka began to laugh, with what sounded like a mix of surprise, and glee in the vocalization. "Hello, Index! I didn't expect to hear from you! This is so pleasant, but, why wasn't I invited to the party? Are you, by any chance, plotting some evil scheme?"

"MISAKA isn't the inferior unit, MISAKA MISAKA says, attempting to remind her dear friend that she is not a troublemaking boob-sprite," Last Order faux-huffed.

"B-boob sprite?!" Hyouka asked between her panting; by this point, she was deep in a laughing fit. "W-what… w-what in the world is a… a boob-sprite?! More importantly, w-why is it so… funny to me?"

Index bit her lip, before a giggle escaped. Then, another – the mental image of Worst in a revealing fairy outfit, wielding a small, plastic wand, with translucent, butterfly-like wings was terrorizing the nun.

"It's what the inferior unit is, MISAKA MISAKA explains, as she holds back an oncoming laugh-fest of her own," Last Order spoke. She'd placed a hand over her mouth, and her eyes were becoming moist.

Hyouka, after some struggling, managed to compose herself. Softly, she cleared her throat, before she began to speak. "So, aside from sending me into hysterics, what's your goal? What's up? Just call to chat? You don't have to have a reason to call! Just curious."

"Actually, Hyouka, we might need to bring PROTECT out of retirement; I discovered that Birdway-san, not the nice one, is still a threat, and, we're concerned about the possibility of the Problem being in Academy City. You weren't there, but it was here a few months back, but, Tsuchimikado-san managed to get it under control," Index stated. She threw herself down on Last Order's bed, her body bouncing for a few seconds, after the initial impact.

"The… problem?" Hyouka inquired, with what sounded like confusion in her tone of voice. Index and Last Order looked to one another, eyebrows raised. Just how far out of the loop was she?

"Lessar, you goose!" Index proclaimed; the vocalization had emerged louder than Index had wanted it to. Regardless, Hyouka didn't seem perturbed.

"Oh! Of course; I should've figured that. Sorry! It's, wow, it's been so long since we've actually had to PROTECT anything," Hyouka stated. On the other end of the call, the brown-haired girl rubbed her neck with her hand, as she awkwardly blushed.

Last Order looked about, nervously. "D-don't say her name too loudly, Index, MISAKA MISAKA warns, afraid of the possibility of the Problem hearing her dear friend's words, and discovering the location of the Saviors!"

"Chill, babe!" Index stated. "This is all just formality, Hyouka. Preparing for what ifs and maybes. With the knowledge that Birdway-san is still a problem, it just, sort of, opens up a whole other can of worms, you know? I'd rather be ready for nothing than not be ready for anything! I'm just going to need you to keep an eye out, let one of us know if you spot anything, or anyone on… the List."

On the other end of the call, what sounded like fingers sifting through paper could be heard, briefly, before Kazakiri Hyouka vocalized a pleased "aha!"

"I can do that; consider my eyes officially open. Do I need to update the List? The most recent entry, here, was… Misaka-san? No, she's crossed out. Old news, hm. Thomson-san was the most recent entry that I have recorded," Hyouka explained.

Index rolled onto her belly, and began to gently kick her legs back and forth, as she contemplated. Tilting her head to one side, the nun searched through the deepest crevices of her mind. "Don't cross out Thomson-san; not yet, at least. Might just be my own paranoia, but, I know she sometimes comes around. Could be a problem, but, Thomson-san is usually pretty reasonable. Oh! What about Fremea's sister? I know she's tried engaging Touma in… er… slightly, more than friendly conversations. Is she on the list?"

"Hmm… Seivelun? Yeah, I do have a "Frenda Seivelun", here. Operative Fremea might be able to give us some 'dirt'!" Hyouka said excitedly; Index giggled, as she imagined Hyouka dressed in full spy apparel, with a pair of night vision goggles over her eyes, lurking about, searching for information.

"That's really about it, for now, Hyouka; whether or not we bring PROTECT together, we really need to get together! Just the five of us! Girls' day out, you feel?" Index spoke. Last Order offered the nun a thumbs' up of approval, as she nodded excitedly. "I might, uh… need some… hm, backup…"

"I'll be free after today, actually! I've been, working, lately, with some friends, in regards to some important matters. It would be great to kick back and relax with you guys!" Hyouka spoke. Index could detect a hint not only of awkwardness, but a little bit of anxiousness in Hyouka's delivery. The nun didn't have to see her friend's face to know that something was wrong. She looked to Last Order, who seemed to be thinking the same thing, as she raised an eyebrow.

"Last Order?" Index inquired, looking to her friend.

"MISAKA should be available, MISAKA MISAKA says, confirming the answer she has to her friend's unvoiced question, since she knows all too well the inner workings of her dear friend's mind," Last Order spoke, as she sat herself down on her chair. Last Order pressed her hand against the edge of her desk, and began to spin herself in her chair.

"Never a dull moment," Hyouka commented, with a small giggle. "Before we get together, I'd like to visit with Touma and Misaki, too, however brief our meeting might be. I miss you all so much! Except Othinus. Rotten little brat."

Index tossed her head back, cackling like a witch, before she rolled onto her back. "Hyouka, thems fightin' words! I guess, it wouldn't be much of a fight, because you could just put a box over Othinus, and she'd be stuck."

"Remind me, Index? I need to bring a box," Hyouka responded, with a small chuckle. "I'll see you two tomorrow, then, I guess? I'll get in touch with Saten-san and Fremea, later; actually going to, work, fairly soon, in fact, or else I'd do it sooner."

"It's cool, babe," Index said nonchalantly. She brushed her silver bangs from her eyes, as Last Order continued to spin herself. As the clone's vision rolled, she marvelled at the spinning room around her, lips parting. Index looked back to her friend, and, witnessing the spectacle, she shook her head. "Let us know what they're saying? I guess, if worst comes to worst, we can figure out something to do, just the three of us."

"You can count on me; seriously! I'm bringing that box!" Hyouka said, as Index giggled. "Goodbye, Index, Last Order! It was so nice to hear from you, and, I'm looking forward to tomorrow! So much! Say "hi" to Touma, and Misaki, Index? Accelerator, Last Order?"

"Bye, babe! I'll try, if they're not sucking face!" Index joked.

"Byeee! MISAKA will do so, as soon as she can, MISAKA MISAKA promises, offering her word to her dear friend so that she can rest easy, knowing that the message will get across," Last Order spoke, her chair's spinning beginning to slow, eyes darting from side to side.

Index ended the call, as she resisted the instinctual urge to stuff Last Order's phone into a pocket that her Walking Church didn't possess.

"Thanks for letting me use your phone, babe," Index said, rising up from the bed. She offered the device back to Last Order, who gently retrieved it, and placed it into her pants pocket.

"No trouble! MISAKA MISAKA responds, hoping that her dear friend knows that MISAKA trusts her with her very life," Last Order replied, as she dizzily stumbled out of her chair, giggling as she began to move about, despite her slowly spinning vision. "MISAKA is curious, though… you said you needed "backup"? What do you mean, backup? Are you talking about… him? MISAKA MISAKA inquires, gripped by curiosity."

Despite herself, Index began to blush. Her cheeks lit up, glowing pink, as her vision was directed to the floor. "I-it's not what you think, you know! I want to get to know him better, even as just a friend! The that he fact… I mean, the fact that he's so… so… handsome, is… is an added bonus!"

"Riiiight, MISAKA MISAKA says sarcastically, vocalizing her lack of belief in her dear, shy friend's words," Last Order remarked. As the clone's vision stabilized, she placed her arm around Index's shoulders, stretched her available arm, and opened her hand, wide, as if she was showing Index some grand display; in Last Order's mind, at least, the many Gekotas that were on the walls of her room were certainly grand enough to be worthy of being displayed for all to see. "Since you've helped MISAKA, today, MISAKA will help you. MISAKA will help you become "friends" with this boy. MISAKA owes you this much, after all, MISAKA MISAKA states, hoping that she isn't coming off as a copycat of the inferior unit."

"Naaah. Worst would be trying to teach me how to… do the do. I'm no prude, but, Worst is into some weird things. To each their own, I guess!"

Last Order nodded sagely. Removing her arm from around the nun's shoulders, she leaned over her desk, grabbed the nearby tablet, and, unlocking it, she put in the passcode that she'd assigned to the device. Setting it up in the center of the desk, she tapped on the "Internet" app, and waved Index over. Sitting herself down in Last Order's chair, the nun peered down at the screen.

"You and MISAKA are going to study up. Boys aren't complicated; they need three things. Food, a smart woman's company, and, lots of attention. Lots. They're actually really needy! You have some knowledge of this from watching the Saviors' interactions, but, we need to put this into action, MISAKA MISAKA explains, taking on the mannerisms of a teacher, so that her knowledge is passed on to her dear friend properly and effectively."

"Alright, let's, get our options laid out, here," Touma spoke, as he placed his phone on the coffee table. It was turned to the side, and the phone's preinstalled notetaking app was open, with a small, point form list.

"We have… Underground mall, Seventh Mist, district six, and district fifteen… and a whole bunch of movie theaters," Touma commented, eyes scanning over the small list. He turned his head to face Accelerator. "Any other ideas, man? Hit us with your best shot."

Academy City's "top dog" gave a shrug, and finished his drink. Placing the empty cup back on the coffee table from where he'd retrieved it, he craned his neck, and looked to the married couple sitting next to him.

"New kiddie park in district six, has that big, fucked up funhouse. Don't really know why they call it a funhouse. Old guy almost had a fucking heart attack in there," Accelerator grumbled. "What's it called? It's on the tip of my tongue."

"Ah, the… the "Citadel of Dread!" Misaki exclaimed. She raised her head proudly, as she produced a mocking "hmph" in Accelerator's direction, before the façade faded, and she giggled, as she adjusted herself on the couch.

"Woo, great job, fifth ranked, you have a working brain," Accelerator responded, grinning.

"Old guy…? Oh, yeah, used to be a funhouse, I think. I remember seeing signs for it all over. Didn't they repurpose it? Don't think it's so much about fun anymore," Touma remarked. "Did it actually give an elderly man a heart attack?"

"Pfffft. Listen to you, hero. "Elderly man". Fifth ranked has rubbed off on you. Yeah, it did. Don't know the details, just know some Judgment girls got him out, he was fine, in the end, by the way. Don't get all fucking teary-eyed on us," Accelerator scoffed.

Misaki's lips curled into an excited grin. "That unfortunate incident aside, I think I would very much enjoy a quick test of my mental, and emotional endurance. What do you say? Touma? Accelerator?"

Accelerator raised an eyebrow, as he yawned, and then leaned against the right arm of the couch. "Quick"? Place is supposed to take fucking hours to get through, one of the biggest in the world. Of course they'd stick it in Academy City, so the faculty can sit around and jerk each other off. I don't care, I'll do whatever. It'll be funny to watch the fucking hero show off."

Touma protectively wrapped his arms around his wife's shoulders, as she smiled up at him. With a wink, she nuzzled him, and sighed contentedly. "Don't worry, Ojou-Sama. I'll protect you from the evil monsters," Touma teased, before he kissed one of Misaki's muscular arms, and then took his arms back. His wife nuzzled him, and Touma took her hand in his.

"Someone's going to have to tell the brats we're getting ready to head out, I guess. I'd do it, but I need to take a fucking piss… feeling a shit coming on, too," Accelerator commented, as he pushed himself up from the couch. Tossing his head to one side, in an attempt to move his bangs away from his eyes, the "top dog" passed by his abandoned crutch and headed in the direction of the bathroom.

Touma grinned, and shook his head. Turning to face Accelerator, he shouted, "tsundere! Disgusting tsundere!"

"Fuck you, hero!" Accelerator called back; he raised his hand, and extended his middle finger, wagging it from side to side until he disappeared into the bathroom. As the door shut, Touma leaned his head back against the soft, leather couch. With a short exhalation, he closed his eyes.

Then, he felt something strange place itself on his crotch. As his body began to relay to his mind what had just happened, he realized that there was not one, but two strange 'somethings' on his crotch. Touma's eyes opened, slowly, as he looked down, and grinned.

"Is this what you were trying to tell me, earlier, husband? You thought me unassuming? Oh, Kamijou Touma, you are an open book to me. I know aaallll about what you like," Misaki whispered. With finely honed skill, and expert precision, Misaki gently massaged the bulge that jutted up from his crotch with her sock-clad feet. "Do you like it, when your sexy little wife gets you off with her thighs, and with her feet? Hmm? Would you be so kind, as to empty yourself all over them both? I know that I enjoy it. I know that I enjoy having you beneath me, serving me, getting all excited for me." Misaki fought back a moan.

Even as adrenaline coursed through Kamijou Touma's veins, he ensured that his interactions with his wife were gentle ones. He reluctantly removed Misaki's feet from his lap, and, and took her into his arms. Misaki's arms were instantly wrapped around her husband's torso, as she looked up at him, big starry eyes looking into his. Touma kissed Misaki's forehead, as he softly stroked the back of her neck with the fingers of his left hand.

"You're actually making me want to take you home, where I can make love to you… have my way with you, in peace," Touma growled, as softly as he could; raw, barely-restrained desire tugged at his mind.

Misaki giggled, as she blushed. Her starry eyes didn't look away; they only looked deeper into her husband's, who, in return, stared back into his wife's. "You are so aroused. How many times must I get you off, before you are ready to leave our home, hmm? How many times must I make you shake, and squirm, and moan for me?"

"Save that enthusiasm," Touma spoke, as he lifted himself, and his wife from the couch. Ensuring that she was placed safely on her feet, he broke away, but quickly took his wife's hand in his own, as if to compensate. "You're going to need it." Touma quickly scooped up the resting form of Othinus, and gently placed her in Misaki's purse.

"Oh? You always deliver on your promises, so I am expecting quite the evening, my prince," Misaki said with a wink. She inhaled deeply, and then slowly exhaled, as she regained her composure. She shook her head, which caused her long, blonde knot of hair to bob from side to side.

Accelerator emerged from the bathroom, and, stuffing his phone back into his pocket, he stopped at the staircase that lead to the condo's second floor. "You fucking heroes didn't have a quickie in my goddamn house, did you?" The "top dog" chuckled, as he massaged his temples with his index finger and thumb. "I'll tell the brats we're heading out, if you're ready, or whatever. They'll be fine."

"Yeah, Accel, you're going to want to clean your couch. We fucked it up pretty bad," Touma joked. Accelerator flipped Touma off, as he began to climb the staircase. "Goddamn hero. Goddamn fifth ranked."

"Hello?! Am I still here? Where did everyone go?! Why is it so dark?! Where am I, even? Touma?! Misaki?! Nun?!" Othinus called out. Rising up, she looked around, somewhat anxiously, until her functioning left eye's vision fell upon the face of Kamijou Touma, which peered down at her. With a sigh, she waved her tiny arms at him, as relief began to wash over Othinus; she was safely tucked away in Misaki's purse.

"We didn't forget you, Othi-chan." Touma said warmly, as he softly rubbed his thumb against the former Magic God's tiny head. Though she resisted, at first, the affection quickly began to feel good. "G-go… pet your… w-wife… dullard," Othinus softly mumbled.

Touma removed his hand, but continued to look into his wife's purse. As he did so, Misaki ran her fingers through her husband's hair, softly, and lovingly. "Actually, Misaki, Accelerator and me are going to this spooktacular haunted house, or funhouse, or something, in district six. Did you want to come? Or do you want to stay here, with Index and Last Order?"

Othinus rubbed her chin, as she produced a soft, contemplative "hmm".

"I don't get out all that often. I think I'll stay with you; besides, it'll be golden to see, or at least hear Misaki tremble in fear at the sight of a dressed-up performer. Heh… then you, the noble hero, can swoop in and protect your betrothed, if you aren't urinating in your own undergarments," Othinus spoke.

Accelerator returned from the second floor of he and his dependants' home. He looked to the two half-empty, and the singular empty cup on the coffee table, and shrugged. "Fuck it, I'll clean up whenever. Get your shit together, heroes. Ready whenever you are. Is the one-eyed brat coming?"

"Yeah, Othi-chan's with us," Touma responded, as he slipped his shoes on. Misaki quickly did the same, as Accelerator moved towards the door. Unlocking the door, he stepped out, as the married couple followed not far behind. Accelerator locked the door with his key, and gave it a series of firm, tough shakes, as if to test its durability.

"So, how are we going to get there? Public transport? Taxi?" Touma inquired, as he took his wife's right hand into his left. Misaki, smiling warmly up at him, interlocked her fingers between her husband's, as they always did, and always would. The trio began to head towards the tube-structure in the center of the circular floor.

Accelerator placed his hands in his pockets, and shrugged. "I could throw you over there, hero. This fucking thing's got a week's worth of power. You want a lift, too, fifth ranked? Seriously speaking, doesn't matter to me. Taxi's going to be faster, and less annoying, retarded ignoramuses in a taxi. I'll only have to deal with four, counting the driver."

"So much tsun!" Misaki said, as she pouted in Accelerator's direction. Though Touma knew it was all in good fun, he kissed the top of his wife's head regardless, once, then twice, and a third time, for good measure.

"We'll get his dere out, beautiful, one way or another," Touma remarked. "Taxi it is, then, I guess!"


	10. Light In The Darkness I

Everything had been the standard fare; having chased the "almighty" Thor out of the arcade, fists flying, Cendrillon had caught up to her companion. The two had attracted many an odd glance, as they ran through the maze-like halls of school district seven's underground mall, though, this was hardly anything new for the two; their trips to Academy City always involved strange glances and raised eyebrows. They always had, and likely always would.

"How do you even run in those, and, so fast, too?! You must have…"

"Say "experience" again, Thor. I dare you. I double dare you. Say "experience" one more time."

"Dated. Very, very dated. My friend certainly has become pathetic!"

"Excuse me?!"

Thor and Cendrillon, the two bickering companions, passed by an elderly man, who smiled warmly at the two. Cendrillon smiled back, warmly, flashing her pearly whites. Thor, who stood beyond her peripheral vision, pointed to her, and mouthed, "save me". With a chuckle, the elderly man shook his head, and walked on.

Patting her shoulder, Thor grinned, as Cendrillon cast her gaze to him. "It was a joke, Cendri-chan! Let's find what we came here for, yeah? You know, what we were here for, before we both became pathetic, and got distracted."

Cendrillon enthusiastically nodded, her rage suddenly forgotten, cast aside like the useless thing it was. The strange golem, whose mouth never seemed to move, despite the fact that it was clearly capable of speech – almost certainly some dark creation of Academy City – apparently accepted her on-the-fly "explanation"; she wasn't going to let Thor's little slip-up get to her anymore. Besides, when he called her "Cendri-chan", or any of the stupid nicknames that he'd come up with for her, a part of her soared.

Stepping over a puddle, and around a small crew of cylindrical machines, who were making quick work of another adjacent puddle, Thor waved his companion to his side. Producing his phone, he connected the device to the underground mall's wireless network, and opened its Internet browser app. Refreshing the page that had half-loaded into memory, Thor peered down at the screen, as Cendrillon shoved her face close to his, in order to get a better view.

A page, displaying a colorful banner for a website referred to as "Physician Ruination's Toy and Hobby". The banner itself was a dark green, while the blocky text printed over it was dark orange. The text had small, but noticeable cracks on each of its letters. The website's background was white, while the text printed over it was black, and in a font that appalled both Thor and Cendrillon – comic sans.

"Comic sans… ugh," Thor muttered, angered by the travesty before him. "They're still using this font? Physician Ruination certainly is becoming more and more pathetic."

Cendrillon's facial expression turned to one of distaste, as she stuck her head up, as if to silently show her superiority.

"Galrus the Black Knight Volume Three Thousand, Seventy-Seven… hmm. According to their website, they've got…" Thor's voice became considerably less enthusiastic, and, before he could complete his sentence, his voice faded. Cendrillon shifted her eyes to peer at her companion. "Fifty-seven left! Cendri-chan! Move, move, MOVE! Hustle! Move those hips!" Thor commanded, as he took off down the hallway; like a bolt of lightning, ironically enough; he struck down shocked passersby in his way, and toppled a life-sized cut out of some celebrity chef, who the French princess couldn't recognize. With a grunt of annoyance, Cendrillon began to speed-walk in the direction that her enthusiastic companion had dashed.

"It's right down the hall, you doofus! Nobody's going to buy almost sixty comics in the span of a few…"

As Cendrillon turned down the corner, passing by a small, vaguely homey-looking coffee shop, she just barely stopped herself from bumping into a young man; bumping into him could've potentially caused a domino effect, which would've resulted in said young man falling into another person, and then another. The French princess' eyes widened; before her was an orderly, but overwhelmingly long line. If only fifty-seven comics remained, only a fraction of the people waiting in the line were going to actually get a copy.

Thor seemed to be in a similar state of disbelief. His own eyes were wide, his eyebrows had become arched, while his brow had furrowed, and his jaw had dropped; to Cendrillon, he almost looked to have been turned to stone. Approaching her companion, Cendrillon stopped mere inches away from Thor, and began to examine him, as if she was an inspector, checking over some public landmark.

"Thor?" Cendrillon inquired, as she inspected his neck, and then his shoulder. Giving him a poke, Thor didn't move. He didn't even blink. Cendrillon checked his pulse; he clearly had one. Looking back up, Cendrillon poked his cheek.

A single bead of sweat trickled down Thor's forehead, to his nose, and, then, down to his chin, from which it fell to the floor beneath him.

"Thor…? It's… you know, okay? I'm sure they'll get… more in stock… soon?" Cendrillon spoke, almost nervously. "We still have the rest of our… vacation, right! We can just go… somewhere else?"

"The first ten thousand copies of Volume Three Thousand and Seventy-Seven come with a limited edition Valrus the White Knight figurine. Limited. Edition. It'll be worth thousands, someday, Cendri-chan. My hopes. My dreams. Shattered, like an illusion exposed to Kamijou's hand. The dumb Kamijou."

Collapsing to his knees, Thor thrust his arms into the air, and cried out, "such misfortune!" as onlookers ogled, or otherwise gawked at the sight unfolding before them. Cendrillon shook her head as she grabbed him by the ear, and began to drag him away.

"Honestly! Ugh! you're unfathomable! Why do I even hang around with you?! UGH!" Cendrillon complained.

"You know well enough, as to why you "hang out" with this… f-fool."

"LIMITED! EDITION! FIGURINE, CENDRI-CHAN! I'll have to buy a… a bootleg! I have certainly become pathetic! All of my experience, gone!" Thor cried out in despair, as his arms and legs dragged along the floors, limp.

Touma raised a hand to his brow, as he looked left, and then right, for what felt like the thousandth time. Thus far, Kamijou Touma, Kamijou Misaki, and Accelerator had been standing outside of the condominium in which the latter lived for nearly fifteen minutes.

"Five-minute arrival, guaranteed!" my ass," Accelerator grumbled, his arms folded. Othinus hung out of Misaki's purse, arms dangling over the edge.

Misaki, out of boredom, had taken to fiddling with her husband's left hand, as she stood next to him. For the umpteenth time, she uncurled each of his fingers, starting from his thumb, all the way to his pinky finger, and then, from his pinky finger, she'd curl his fingers back towards his palm, all the way to his thumb. Her newest cycle would be her hundredth.

"Having fun, there?" Touma remarked, as he watched cycle one hundred come to a close. Accelerator ground his teeth, as he pulled out his phone, and then, like Touma before him, looked from left to right.

"I am!" Misaki spoke softly, but enthusiastically. "I hope I am not pestering you."

Touma shook his head, "no way, beautiful. Do what you do. Doesn't bother me one bit. I love when I have your attention, which, to be fair, is almost always."

"Fucking finally! I was just going to fly us there, if this asshole took any longer," Accelerator remarked. The taxi, a rather spacious, bright orange minivan, plastered with various stickers, such as a wide one that scrolled across the doors that faced the Kamijous and Academy City's "top dog", which proudly advertised the taxi service's phone number, and boasted about their "five-minute arrivals". When Accelerator's eyes scanned over that bit, he clicked his tongue, and resisted the urge to rant.

The trio – Othinus had slipped herself back into Misaki's purse – were taken by surprise, when the driver of the taxi, pale-faced, stumbled out, and fell to his knees, hands clasped. A young man, with thick, messy black hair, clad in a pair of dark sweatpants, and a zipped-up jacket to match, he was quite the sight to see.

"F-forgiveness, Accelerator-Sama! If… If I would've known that it was… you… my employers would have…"

Accelerator clicked his tongue. "Fuck's sake. Shut up, and get back in the car. I'm not any more fucking important than you are, so knock this shit off. Where's your pride? Do you have some overbearing wife who hits you with a rolling pin when you forget to take out the trash?"

"That's oddly specific, Accel," Touma remarked. Misaki nodded in agreement, silently; internally, she was preoccupied with Accelerator's words.

"You have come so far; from the moment when we first met, eyes wide, teeth bared in a feral display of mania. From walking the path of absolute, psychotic power, to… this. "I'm not any more important than you are."

The driver of the taxi, shaking slightly, picked himself back up, as he began to stumble feverishly back into the vehicle.

"This guy going to be okay to drive? Looks like he's fallen off his fucking rocker," Accelerator commented.

"He will need a few moments to compose himself, that is certain. Once he regains control, everything should be fine," Misaki spoke.

"I'm with Misaki; we can just talk to him, make him feel more at home. Looks like you're still the talk of Academy City, buddy," Touma teased. Accelerator shook his head, and chuckled, as he shrugged his shoulders. Othinus clambered up from Misaki's purse, as her guardians, and Accelerator began to move towards the taxi, whose doors had slid open.

"What in my name was that all about? Did the Accelerator make mincemeat of someone? More importantly, did I miss it?" Othinus inquired, as she turned her head from side to side.

"What in my name"? Listen to you, stuck-up, one-eyed brat," Accelerator grumbled, as he clambered into one of the seats that was second farthest to the back. He'd correctly predicted that the married couple sought the combined seats that were farthest to the back of the vehicle.

"They're going to start engaging in "the Mating Ritual of Kami-yan", as it's known in the field… Accelerator, save me from this fate!" Othinus squeaked.

Touma moved himself into the combined seats that were farthest to the back; before Misaki had the chance to follow in her husband's footsteps, Accelerator reached into the Mental Out user's purse, and plucked the tiny former Magic God out. Placing her in a nearby cup holder, he grinned malevolently.

"You might think this entertaining, Accelerator; but, I will have you know that this is actually quite comfortable! So, there," Othinus stated; leaning back in the cup holder, she allowed her legs to dangle over the edge, as she pressed her back against the cool, hard plastic interior of the taxi.

"Whatever, one-eyed brat," Accelerator remarked, before he leaned forward. The driver of the taxi awkwardly looked back to face him. Accelerator forced himself to supress a grin. The young man in front of him was quite obviously having trouble looking Accelerator directly in the eye.

"District six," Accelerator commanded. "Uh. How's it going, "dude?"

"V-very… well, A-Accelerator-Sama! T-thank y-y… y-you!" The driver stuttered.

Accelerator leaned back in his seat, and folded his arms. He didn't put his seatbelt on; he had no need to. Flicking his choker on, he, with the aid of the Misaka Network, blocked out the noise around him. He knew well enough that the Kamijous probably wouldn't be talking to him for the duration of their ride.

In the combined seats that were farthest to the back, Kamijou Touma had, unintentionally, placed himself in a rather vulnerably position. The seats in front of the married couple were wide enough to block the driver's view of Touma; he would have to look into his rear view mirror to see them, and, even then, he would only be able to see so much.

Kamijou Misaki, thus far, hadn't taken advantage of the situation. She, with her husband's hands in her own, had simply been adoring his existence, and her existence with him. With her starry eyes closed, Misaki smiled warmly. As her beloved brought her closest hand to his lips, and kissed it, she produced a small, wordless vocalization, which made Touma's heart skip a beat.

"I love it when you make those cute little noises that you make. Have I ever told you that?" Touma inquired, softly. "If we didn't have to have our seatbelts on, I'd ask you to slide over here. I just want to snuggle you up. You're actually so cute; really, really cute. Adorable, even. I wanna cuddle with you, now."

Misaki's cheeks broke into a bright pink blush. Butterflies flew about in her stomach; she had been his partner for ten years, and, yet, where some relationships might've devolved into a less physical, less openly adoring type of love, the Kamijous' marriage hadn't.

"I want to be snuggled up by you, among… other things," Misaki spoke, just a bit quieter than Touma had. She looked to him, starry eyes looking into Touma's own. Licking her lips, Misaki reigned in the desire to grab at his crotch. With a quick breath, Misaki prepared to speak her mind. Her voice faded to a whisper, her tongue, and lips beginning to form words, as she pressed her lips against her husband's ear.

"I want you. I want you so badly. Fuck me. No; you will fuck me, when we return home. You will not make love to me; you will lift me up, bend me over, and use me to relieve yourself. Empty yourself inside me, husband of mine. Mine. Mine, mine, mine, MINE. All mine. Do I make myself clear? I want to be used by you, as a depository, as a container.

"Use me the way you would use your hand. No matter how much I scream, I want you to keep going, until you are finished – well and truly finished, until you can produce nothing more. Fucking molest me. Overtake me, defile me. Fill me. I want to be molested by you. Make me scream your fucking name, until I can scream no longer, and I am reduced to whimpering. Then, when you are done, you can lick the sweat from my body, from head to toe, and I do mean head to toe. At this point, there is very little choice in the matter, for you, husband."

Touma's eyes darted back and forth. In any other situation, he would return his wife's dirty talk with great pleasure, even if she was drifting towards dark, and extreme pleasure; he knew well enough that everything between he and his wife was, and would always be consensual, despite her choice of vocabulary. It wasn't that, in particular, that was unnerving him. Kamijou Misaki did have this submissive side, this side of her that liked playing the victim for him. It wasn't even the fact that Accelerator was in the seat ahead. Accelerator, nor the driver of the taxi hear Misaki's lustful words. It wasn't even the fact that he could feel a throbbing bulge in his pants, that felt like it was threatening to tear his pants' crotch apart, and burst out.

Othinus was looking straight at Misaki, with a wide, knowing grin. There was no way that she could possibly hear Misaki's words, yet, Touma believed that Othinus, somehow, knew exactly what her co-guardian was speaking about.

The taxi hit a bump in the road, and Misaki started, slightly. Blushing heavily, she continued to look into her husband's eyes.

"T-Touma… I fear that I may have made you uncomfortable. I can see it. Oh, my; I am so, so sorry. I… I know how much of a gentleman you are; how humble you are. I love you so much for it. I love how much of a gentleman you are. I am so lucky, so blessed, to be so happily married to you… my body's desires got ahead of me. I should save such conversations for the privacy of our bedroom, or… our shower. Or, on top of our table. Mm… oh! Not again! Touma, I… I…"

Before Misaki could continue her whispering, Touma kissed her on the lips, as he stroked her cheek. "It's okay, precious. If we were anywhere else, you know I'd welcome those disgusting words of yours, my Ojou-Sama... my Queen. If anything, you're just building the hype up. By the way, I think Othi-chan's onto us," he whispered back.

Misaki turned her gaze to Othinus, who still sat in the cup holder adjacent to Accelerator. She smirked, smugly, and waved slowly in Misaki's direction. With a shudder, Misaki looked away.

"I apologize, my love. I should not have let my desires take hold of me. I hope I did not make you feel too uncomfortable. Please, if I should begin to do so again, at any time, do not feel bad about reminding me to watch my behavior."

Touma squeezed his wife's hand between his own, and smiled at her, warmly. Misaki's heart, like Touma's before her, skipped a beat, as her blush returned. When Kamijou Touma looked at her, Kamijou Misaki, with those big, warm eyes of his, when he looked through her, and into her very soul, with unconditional love in his mind, and in his heart, Misaki felt like the flustered little schoolgirl she'd once been. "I'm so… I'm so fucking madly in love with this man, my husband, my partner, my best friend. I… I cussed? So unladylike, yet, such raw desire burns in my veins. It is almost uncontrollable."

"Nothing to be sorry about. We're both humans, people, with needs, right? We're married, beautiful, it's only natural that we're going to talk about this stuff. Not only that, it's not like you're sitting here, talking about it out loud. You're whispering, nobody else can hear you. Just me. Othi-chan's just messing with us, and, for all the taxi driver knows, you could be whispering to me about taxes," Touma remarked, finishing his explanation with a chuckle. Misaki giggled. Her husband's humor wasn't always the most unique, or, even inherently the funniest, but, to Misaki, her husband's sense of humor was perfect, because it was his.

Misaki smiled, and nodded in agreement, before she ruffled Touma's hair. Misaki returned to her side of their combined seats, her husband's hands returned to being in her own, their fingers intertwining, as always.

Accelerator looked down at the former Magic God; she was waving her arms, and her lips were moving, though, Academy City's "top dog" couldn't hear her. He flicked his choker off, and, leaning forward, he rested his chin in the palm of his hand, his elbow pressed against his knee. His lips were straightened, unenthusiastic and neutral.

"Alright, one-eyed brat. What the fuck do you want?" Accelerator inquired. He yawned, as his crimson eyes looked into Othinus' singular green eye. Despite herself, despite the world-breaking power she once wielded, despite the fact that she knew Accelerator was a bona fide sissy, Othinus felt a tremor run down her tiny spine.

Othinus crossed one leg over the other, as she allowed her arms to hang over the sides of the cup holder. "Our hosts are preparing to engage in "the Mating Ritual of Kami-yan". I can tell. I have been observing some interesting things, over the past weeks, in particular, more than ever," Othinus began.

Accelerator raised an eyebrow. "The… "Mating Ritual of Kami-yan"? Are you a member of that fucking "Delta Force" now?"

Othinus nodded sagely. "I am an honorary member, sworn in by that fool in the glasses himself, in fact. I also believe you're a member, as well. Such a tsundere. Listen to me, and listen to me clearly, one who wields the power of Yahweh. I will not repeat myself. Our hosts seek to create offspring. Doing so, as it stands, would not be wise; there would be repercussions. The impossible power within Touma's right hand could react in any number of ways, none of which are positive. I know little about the "Imagine Breaker", but, I know enough to safely come to this conclusion."

Accelerator's crimson eyes shifted upwards, as he looked past Othinus. The taxi traveled over another bump; Accelerator's body shifted in place. From behind him, he heard Misaki giggle, before she and her husband returned to their conversation; they were talking about some "lost film"; certainly nothing that Academy City's "top dog" cared about. Accelerator sighed, before he clicked his tongue.

Lowering his voice, Accelerator looked back down to the former Magic God. "Yeah. I know. It's way too fucking easy to see that they want a goddamn brat. What would happen with that… those things, in the hero's hand, if they had one? From what I gather, you've been around for a while."

Othinus seemed to become uncomfortable, as she shifted awkwardly in place. If the topic of their conversation was anything less serious, Accelerator would've permitted himself to smirk triumphantly; it was quite obvious that Othinus didn't have an exact answer.

"The Imagine Breaker", as it has been dubbed by our mutual benefactor, is the result of the collection of the hope, and the fear of all magicians. Regardless of how far the world has been distorted, the "Imagine Breaker" can return the world to its original state,"

Othinus' left eye looked down, as if she was experiencing shame, as if she couldn't look Accelerator, who continued to observe her, in the eye.

"It can be… used as a… a… a reference point, from which all phenomenon…"

Othinus' small voice cracked, slightly. Accelerator clicked his tongue. He knew well enough what remorse was. She remained silent, for some time, before she cleared her little throat, and continued.

"… may be undone. It has had many a host, though who the first wielder of the "Imagine Breaker" was is unknown, even to me. As of now, as of this moment, "Imagine Breaker" seems to feel at home with Touma. It has had many a chance to fly free, and choose another to bear it, yet, even now, now that he's settled down, even now, that he wants to… create life with his chosen mate… "Imagine Breaker" remains."

Accelerator looked behind him, a second time. The married couple still appeared to be none the wiser, as they were quietly talking about something, which the "top dog" of Academy City didn't know the context of. For all he knew, they still could've been talking about that same "lost film". He looked up, and saw that the taxi was passing through the border between school districts seven and five. The tall, wide gap in the great wall between the two school districts made Accelerator feel surprisingly small, despite the fact that he knew he was larger than life itself.

"What you're inferring is that, if the hero and the fifth ranked have a brat, that thing in his hand could transfer, from father to child? I fucking thought so. Never knew it was sentient," Accelerator mumbled. "You think the hero can talk to it, somehow? Or those things inside of it? Maybe he can reason with them, tell them to fuck off. Reasoning is something that the hero's good at. We both know well enough about that."

The tiny former Magic God shrugged. "I've spent a lot of time with the dullard. I know him well, even more than you. There is only one who knows him better than I do, who knows his truest, rawest desires. I know Kamijou Touma as a protector, a guardian, someone who's supposed to be my "jailer", but has never treated me as a prisoner.

"Kamijou Misaki knows Kamijou Touma as a friend, as a lover, as a human being. She knows things about him that I can only begin to imagine. Does "Imagine Breaker" know? Is it truly, as you suggested, "sentient"? One could come to this conclusion, and it would be a safe conclusion to come to. Yet, it could potentially be the wrong conclusion.

"There is one, who wields a similar power to the "Imagine Breaker", so to speak, but, I'm certain he has enough to deal with. Hypothetically, if he was to consent to bearing two curses, rather than one, would "Imagine Breaker" accept him? Could it? I'm not fond of being put in such predicaments. I know many things, one who wields the power of Yahweh, but, this topic is not among them. I have potential ideas, none of which may work, if put into action."

Academy City's "top dog" leaned back in his seat, and sighed. He turned his face away from Othinus, and, from his seat, looked out of the window, to the world around him. School district five's academic facilities passed him by; pristine in their construction, these structures were bright, welcoming temples of knowledge; school district five seemed like the only district that wasn't filled to the brim with silver, or white skyscrapers. Its architecture was almost ornate; most of the academic facilities in the district were built from bricks, their exteriors painted with bright, positive colors; yellows, oranges, limes, and lavenders were some of the colors that Accelerator spotted in his observations.

All of this brightness was around him, and, yet, he was feeling rather disheartened.

"This is a man, and a woman who both saved my fucking life. I owe these people, the goddamn stupid hero, and the fifth ranked everything that I possess. I owe them my life. Why can't I help them? I have the power to challenge every country's fucking army, and come out on top, yet, I can't help my… my best fucking friends have a chance to do what they truly want to fucking do."

With a restrained snarl, Accelerator turned his vision back to Othinus' tiny form. "Oi. One-eyed brat."

Looking up, the former Magic God tilted her head to one side, and offered him a thin smile. Accelerator didn't know exactly why, but, strangely, it felt as if the expression was, to some extent, one of hope. Perhaps she was thinking the same thing he was? Perhaps, she was willing to sacrifice everything in order to help the one who'd saved her life a second time?

Accelerator looked to the driver of the taxi, who, like the married couple behind him, appeared to be non the wiser. His attention was focused on the road in front of him, not on his passengers.

As Academy City's "top dog" cast his vision to the streets beyond the taxi's windshield, he took in just how packed school district fifteen was. Vehicular traffic wasn't even the main issue; pedestrians were everywhere, walking out in front of cars, raising their hands in exasperation when they were rightfully honked at. The driver of their vehicle had bigger fish to fry, clearly.

As Accelerator began leaning in, Othinus quickly got the hint, and leaned forward in the cup holder.

"I'm not going to "find" a way to help the hero. I'm going to fucking make a way. I know some people. Pretty tight individuals, they know how to get their information, and they know how to get it fast.

"There's someone in Academy City who knows more about the fucked up power in the hero's hand than anyone else. They've got access to information that nobody else does. If anyone knows anything about the hero's hand, it's the person who's got access to the data that was held by… him."

Othinus tilted her small head to the side, as her left eye blinked. "Will you, "Accel-chan?" Will you step into the territory of a man-child whose name even you are afraid to speak openly? Be warned, should you go searching, you might find more than what you originally bargained for."

Accelerator held back yet another snarl, before his voice turned to a whisper, full of malice. "You don't think I fucking know that? Who, precisely, do you think you're talking to, one-eyed brat? Academy City's darkness is something I know all about. Beneath their heel, I fucking killed ten thousand people. Living, breathing, knowing people. I know everything there is to fucking know. I was fucking played by them. They made me what I was, before… before… before Misaki and Touma stepped in, and ended it all."

The nose of the "top dog" of Academy City was pressed nearly against the former Magic God's face; she reeled back, as Accelerator's crimson eyes stared into her single remaining pupil. Othinus' heart was beating a mile a minute. She felt like a prey animal, inches away from the gaping maw of an unstoppable predator. "I'll kill those fucking dragons myself, if I have to. I'll fucking make my wings come out, and then, those things will see who's laughing. I can get that goddamn beetle, the second ranked, and that goddamn robot, the Protectron. I know that thing can phase through just about anything but the second ranked's Dark Matter. It could hit those fucking dragons from the inside, while the second ranked and I fuck their day up. We…"

"Accel? Othi-chan?"

Accelerator instantly leaned back in his seat, with a snort. Othinus piped up, and forced a smile on her face.

"Yo, hero," the "top dog" remarked, as he craned his head to the right. Othinus waved to Touma, whose head was sticking out from behind his seat. Misaki looked at the two with concerned, starry eyes.

"Dullard! Welcome to the conversation. The Accelerator and I were engaging in a heated debate about the possibility of which novella is superior; "My Cakes Will Burn", or "This is Illegal, You Know".

"The Accelerator" didn't know about the existence of either novella, and decided to take quite the risk, when his lips parted. "Yeah… Uh. "My Cakes Will Burn". Huckleberry Finn is a goddamn asshole. I… I liked the part where he blew the robot pirates apart with the laser cannon attached to his wrist, though. They… uh. They had it coming."

Othinus couldn't help but chuckle. "Go write a book, "number one". You'll make millions."

"Ah; I don't really read all that much. That's cool, though! Glad to see you two bonding!" Touma happily remarked, as his face disappeared behind the seat. The top of his hair could be seen, though, this was due to the fact that, behind the seat, he was in something of a relaxed, slouched position.

Misaki smiled, and reached forward, patting Accelerator on the shoulder; Accelerator had moved to flick his choker off, only to see that it had already been disabled. With a sigh of relief, he allowed the act of friendly affection to occur. "As am I, Accelerator. Othinus really is not all that bad, once you get to know her. In the process, though… that is when you feel the real pain. She is quite the card."

"I can hear you, loud and clear, Mental Out!" The former Magic God squeaked, as she shook her fist.

Accelerator plucked Othinus from her seat in the cup holder; the former Magic God produced an unceremonious squeak as she did so, kicking her legs, as her tiny feet swatted at the air. Academy City's "top dog" turned towards the married couple behind him, and gently dropped Othinus onto the seat between them. He could hear Touma's maniacal laughter, as he plucked Othinus from her new seat.

"You big brute! Put me down, this instant!" Othinus proclaimed.

Touma placed Othinus in the outstretched palm of his left hand, and pinned her beneath the index finger of his right. With his finger pressing against her belly, Othinus glared up at her "jailer".

"Aww, little Othi-chan. She's sooooo cuuuhhhuuuttteee!" Touma exclaimed sarcastically. "There wouldn't be a whole lot that you could do, if I started tickling you."

Othinus' left eye widened, as she shook her head viciously. "No! Not that! Anything but that! Mercy! Misaki, aid me!"

Misaki watched on, amused. Kamijou Touma's wife shook her head, with a smug expression on her face. She winked in Othinus' direction.

"You're worse than that cat!" Othinus squeaked in terror. Her little arms and legs began to thrash about, as Touma looked down at his "prisoner", with an amused grin. "Put me down! Down, I say! Obey my commands, dullard! Down! Put me dooowwwnnnn! Please? Pretty please? Please put me down. Touma? I'll tell the nun, and, then, she'll bite you. Your wife won't save you. If you dare tickle me, I'll climb into your throat while you're sleeping, and I'll kick the inside of your neck! HA!"

"You're no fun," Touma commented, before he relented. He gently sat Othinus on his shoulder. After dusting herself off, as if she'd been dirtied by Kamijou Touma's touch, Othinus tossed her head back, causing her golden hair to trail behind her. She adjusted her bangs, moving them away from her eyes, before she crossed her legs, and used her arms to keep her balance.

With Othinus settled into place, Accelerator went back to sightseeing, while the married couple, still hand in hand, quieted down. The duration of their ride through district five, and into district six was a peaceful one. The silence that had descended was far from uncomfortable for the parties involved; the driver of the taxi was too busy concentrating on the road in front of him to even have noticed that his passengers had been speaking.

On the school district six side of the border between school districts five and six, Accelerator, Kamijou Misaki, and Othinus, who had taken to riding on Misaki's shoulder exited the taxi, as Touma paid the fare, with a quick swipe of his debit card, and a quicker input of his security code. With a polite wave, and a warm farewell, Touma stepped out, as the taxi began to pull away.

"Might I go back into your purse?" Othinus inquired, turning her head to face her co-guardian. Misaki smiled at Othinus; it almost looked somewhat sad, as if to say, "I understand". Misaki gently picked the tiny former Magic God up, and set her carefully inside of her purse, where she curled up, rubbing the side of her face against the purse's soft interior.

"So, hero, fifth ranked," Accelerator spoke up. The married couple had already taken to holding hands; Academy City's "top dog" just couldn't restrain the grin that his lips curled into. "No pit stops along the way? I don't really care. Just asking."

Kamijou Touma looked down to Kamijou Misaki, who smiled warmly up at him. "Where to go, huh? Are we just going to head straight to this "new kiddie park", or are we going to go clothes shopping?"

With a gentle, harmless slap of his wrist, Misaki giggled. "Oh, please, husband; you know well enough that I am not that type of woman. Now, an abstract art museum, for example; that would be my forte. Have I ever told you about the museum in district fifteen?

"Within, among other oddities, is an entire display dedicated to the works of Andreas C.L. Schnaas. Among his art, is a wax replication of his "Wilds Unrestrained" piece, in which he covered his body with copious amounts of silver-dyed clay, created a large, beastly mask with said clay, and, then, planted multiple burning twigs within the clay. The end result, while grotesque, is genius, in its own way. It invokes the savagery of the human spirit."

Accelerator was anything but surprised; throughout her explanation, Touma had turned his attention entirely to his wife, never interrupting, eyes never straying from hers, as she spoke. Though passersby sometimes came dangerously close to crashing into him, Kamijou Touma's attention never left his wife's form. From Accelerator's point of view, it was if Touma had been pulled into a trancelike state.

Touma, when he believed his wife had finished her explanation, responded, as the two followed behind Accelerator. "Andreas C.L. Schnaas?" I've heard you mention him before, beautiful. Norwegian, right? Didn't he produce the "Tribute to False Gods"? Statue made out of torn-up pieces of old religious texts? Stirred up a lot of stuff, no? If you want to go to that museum, one day, we should. Never been a big art guy myself, but, I wouldn't mind taking a look; always good to learn about new things, right? Especially if it makes you happy."

Quickly standing on her toes, Misaki planted a kiss to her husband's cheek, before she returned to her normal stance. "Just how much attention have you paid to my lectures, Touma?! Y-you're so… so adorable. You are the ultimate. You are without rival. Best husband ever."

Touma couldn't help but grin. In front of them, Accelerator looked to the sky, as he continued to contemplate his conversation with the former Magic God.

"Lectures? Nah. I love listening to you talk, about anything, really. When you're passionate about something, you just… you light up, in this really amazing way, and I love seeing you glow the way that you do. You're the ultimate, too; best wife ever," Touma complimented, before he tapped Accelerator on the shoulder.

"Yeah, hero? Done being a brownnoser?" Accelerator teased in response, through his mirthful laughter. He gently punched Touma's shoulder, before he returned his attention to the street in front of him. He awkwardly wiped the corners of either of his eyes with his knuckles.

"From then, to now. Shit. Where has the fucking time even gone? Hero and the fifth ranked are the only ones who have stayed the same, it feels like. I'll find some way to repay you, both of you. If I have to get fucking shot in the head a second time, I'd do it. I'd do it in a goddamn instant. I'd take the bullet with a smile."

"Allergies, man, your eyes are red as shit," Touma commented. "I sympathize. Mine haven't been so bad, this year, but, last year… anyways, what's this park's name? Do you know it?"

"You're so fucking dense," Accelerator grumbled under his breath. "Yeah. Name's something real fucking stupid, like "the Grand Kingdom", or some shit. Real generic, play it safe sort of thing, probably trying to appeal to the widest audience."

Touma nodded, satisfied with the answer. Misaki took to asking the question that was, to no one's surprise, on Touma's mind. "Do you know where it is located, Accelerator? Or, do we need to ask for directions?"

"Of course I do… actually, I don't. Fuck," Accelerator remarked. "We'll find it."

The trio shared a chuckle, as Othinus popped her head out from Misaki's purse; seeing the many, many passersby, she squeaked in panic, and returned to her humble hiding hole.

Stepping out of the way, the trio stepped onto the deck that sat just outside of a small family restaurant. Wide, spacious, and crafted from fine, dark wood, the patio was a breath of fresh air for the trio, when compared to the silver and white hues most of Academy City sported. Sitting themselves down at a vacant wooden table, whose large, almost vaguely throne-like wooden chairs looked more than welcoming, Accelerator produced his phone, and, after unlocking the device, opened its map app. He proceeded to quickly allow the app to track his location, for the purpose of pinpointing him. Accelerator typed in the name of the ride that Kamijou Misaki had provided to him; "the Citadel of Dread". Doing so yielded multiple results – the top result was the attraction's location, which was, as Accelerator had accurately predicted, the amusement park that was known as the "the Grand Kingdom". During this time, a waitress had approached; in order to avoid being loiterers, the Kamijous ordered two ice waters, one for Touma, and one for Misaki.

"Accelerator? Would you like anything to drink?" Misaki inquired, as she placed a hand warmly on his own pale hand. Accelerator looked up from his phone, and shrugged.

"Yeah. Water's fine…" Before he could forget his manners, Last Order's voice played in his head.

"It's always important to remember to use your manners, Accelerator; that way, people won't think you're some type of delinquent, MISAKA MISAKA explains, as she uses her "good girl" ways to woo you into being a respectable member of society!"

"… please."

"Another ice water, please?" Misaki inquired. The waitress smiled, and nodded, before she quickly went on her way.

Accelerator tapped on the location of the Grand Kingdom, and commanded his phone's map app to offer him directions. From his position on the map, a small, glowing, blue light darted, and eventually ended up at the location of the Grand Kingdom.

By the time Accelerator stuffed his unlocked phone into his pocket, the waitress had returned, with three fair sized glasses of ice water; Touma was quick to suck his back, while Misaki began to sip on her own. Accelerator couldn't see it, but, beneath the table, Touma's hand had come to rest on his wife's thigh; Accelerator wasn't aware of the context, when Misaki turned her gaze to her husband, and shook her head, with a small, seductive grin.

"So, hero, fifth ranked, we've got about a fifteen-minute walk, if we hustle our asses. I… appreciate the drink, but, let's not sit around all day," Academy City's "top dog" commented, before he proceeded to chug his water. Touma watched on in awe, as Misaki's eyes, too, fell upon Accelerator.

"… what the fuck are you two looking at? Go stare at each other, or something," Accelerator jokingly remarked, as he moved his bangs from his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, and crossed one leg across the other's knee.

"F-forgive me, mighty Accel-chan," Touma teased, trembling, as he placed his hands together, and proceeded to move up and down, as if to beg for forgiveness. Misaki began to blush, as she looked away, giggling at the sight before her.

Accelerator folded his arms, and clicked his tongue; he could only hold the cold façade for so long, before he, too, broke down laughing. Misaki only began to giggle more, as she heard the "top dog's" mirthful laughter. Touma struggled to finish his water, as he resisted the urge to join his wife and old friend in their merry chuckles.

Kamijou Misaki proceeded to softly clear her throat, before she tossed her head back, and let the remainder of her water pour into her mouth, as if it was a waterfall, streaming down onto the earth to form a body of water. Pulling her head back up, she grinned, as Touma's eyes shifted in his head, in his beloved's direction.

"Good shit. I'll grab the bill. You paid for the ride, so it's only right. Don't fucking protest, goddamn hero, I know how you are," Accelerator remarked, as he rested his arm against the backrest of his chair.

"Accel-chan, I'll save you from the evil forces of finances!" Touma exclaimed, thrusting his right fist outwards; the air around him gusted, as a swift, sudden "swoosh" sound was produced.

"You've still got it, hero. Almost makes me feel bad for any moron who fucks with you," Accelerator remarked. Touma chuckled, as he began to awkwardly lower his arm back to his side.

"You will have to save yourself, first," Misaki remarked, as she placed her hands over her mouth, and turned away; she almost looked like she'd just told some offensive joke. Her husband's lips parted, and then, his lips curled into a frown, before, like Accelerator before him, his façade faded; he began to chuckle, as he folded his arms across his mighty chest.

"I'm man enough to admit it, I'd rather leave all the money stuff to you, beautiful. You're way better with it than I am," Touma confessed. Accelerator smirked in response, and rolled his crimson eyes. Misaki nodded, almost smugly, in approval, before she wrapped her arms around her husband's form, and sighed contentedly, as she nuzzled him.

"Ready to go, baby?" Kamijou Misaki inquired, as Touma's left arm went around her shoulders. Touma offered a nod of agreement, as he quickly ran his hand down his wife's back, causing her form to shiver, slightly.

Rising up, Accelerator held his position until the waitress presented herself; calling her over, Accelerator moved to produce his wallet, which held his debit card – unfortunately, as Accelerator began to root around in his pockets, he found only his phone. Touma took the initiative, and quickly paid the bill, offering Accelerator a grin, as if to say, "it's cool". As the waitress bade her short-lived customers a warm farewell, the trio left the patio.

"Sorry, hero, fifth ranked; I fucked up. Thought I had my wallet with me," Accelerator remarked, as he stuffed his hands into his wallet-less pockets.

"Accel, man, it's cool. Honestly," Touma spoke, as he patted Accelerator on the shoulder.

"Absolutely correct, my love," Misaki, too, said, before she turned her attention to Accelerator. "There is no need to feel that you must pay us back, either; consider this day to be on us, as a gift. You certainly deserve a day out." Her husband nodded in agreement.

Accelerator allowed himself to smile, and, he allowed himself to properly thank his friends. "T-thanks. Misaki, Touma. Means a lot… to me."

The married couple smiled to one another, before their hands clasped, and their fingers interlocked; and as they and their friend continued on their way towards the Grand Kingdom, down the cobbled walkways of school district six, passersby, both in vehicles and on foot, zoomed past, though, the quartet were very much caught up in their business together.

Othinus had peaked her head out over the edge of Misaki's purse, and examined the great, tall world around her. The sky above the quartet was right, and blue, with only small, fluffy, clouds that smiled down onto them, as if they approved of the peace that they witnessed from above. Othinus recalled her conversation with "the Accelerator"; she'd almost fallen back into that darkness, that all-encompassing realm of self depreciation and remorse, hailing back to a time before a certain spiky-haired boy, and a certain blonde-haired girl had shattered her illusions.

Those thoughts still lingered, and, though they clung to the edges of the tiny former Magic God's mind, as she looked to the sky, with her functioning eye; the light, warm breeze brushed and caressed her golden hair, and massaged the scalp beneath. Despite everything that Othinus had been through, not only with Kamijou Touma and Shokuhou Misaki, as Kamijou Misaki had been known, then, but with her once-enemy, a man named Ollerus, and those who had once served beneath her, forming the cabal known as GREMLIN, Othinus smiled. She smiled warmly, and with mirth. Despite the fact that she was a powerless, fifteen-centimeter thing, little more than a pixie, Othinus smiled, truthfully, and without hesitation. If, someday, the opportunity to be restored to her full size presented itself, she'd take it. If not, she'd live this way. It was hardly anything to complain about.

Othinus felt herself begin to tear up, as she clambered back into her co-guardian's purse. The former Magic God closed her left eye, and, cupping her tiny hands, she placed them to the right side of her chest.

"Thank you, for giving me this opportunity, to live, and to love with you, dullard, Mental Out, nun… even you, cat. Thank you. I love you."

October 9th, 2014. 5:23 PM.

The door to the Saten and Uiharu residence was flung open with a thud. Standing in the doorway was what, to some, might've been a terrible sight to behold: Protectron. Closing the door behind it as it walked into the residence, the synthetic lifeform emulated the sound of a human's sigh of relief; it was home.

"Hi, honey! I, Protectron… er… I mean, I'm home!" The synthetic lifeform proclaimed, mouth unmoving.

The Saten and Uiharu residence, which was an apartment in school district twenty, was a small, but comfortable abode. Its walls were made up of large, light brown tiles, which varied in size. Most were rectangular, while some were smaller squares. The ceilings were painted beige, the floors made of treated hardwood. The living room, which the synthetic lifeform casually strolled into was of fair size; the kitchen was connected directly to the living room; two entrances in the wall that separated the two rooms allowed access into it.

In the center of the living room's ceiling, there was a large ceiling light, which was turned off, as natural daylight flooded in through the glass balcony doors, whose blinds were pulled back. A large television sat across from the couch; between both, there was a long coffee table, which was mostly empty, save for a tablet, whose screen was black and inactive. Beneath the television sat a large wall unit, whose shelves were almost entirely covered with collections of manga, light novels, DVDs, and small trinkets that were of importance to the home's residents, one of which was a small, white flower pin, that sat next to a flowery headband; both looked far too small to fit with the adult forms of their respective owners.

Protectron, body producing a soft humming as it made its way into the living room, where, shrugging off its Aloha Shirt, and then unbuckling and tossing away its slacks, revealing the entirety of its metallic form, plopped down on the wide, long, black leather couch. Reaching over to the right arm of the piece of furniture, Protectron swatted at the remote, as it tossed its clothing into a pile on the other side of the couch. Unable to obtain it through "normal" means, the synthetic lifeform's lower arm extended; its lower right arm shot out from its upper right arm, as a long, thick metallic beam slowly began to appear, which connected the two. Grabbing the remote, the lower right arm slid back into the upper right, with an audible, metallic "zwoop" sound.

The television itself was quite large; attached to the wall across from the couch, it was fifty inches horizontally, and thirty-five inches vertically. Its flat, plastic frame was black, and, in the center of the bottom of the frame, there was a small "LCA" logo.

Protectron's auditory stimuli detectors picked up on a thud, which came from down the hall, behind the couch, and away from the entrances to the kitchen, that separated it from the living room. Protectron recognized the sound instantaneously, simply by the speed in which the sound came, and to what degree the loudness of the thud was.

The lights upon the synthetic lifeform's body changed in their coloration; from cyan, to bright pink, as it rose up from its seat on the couch, arms held wide.

"Awakened! Awakened!" The voice of Saten Ruiko called, as she came rushing down the hall; by the looks of her outfit, she had changed into "relax mode". The young woman's long, dark hair was tied back in a ponytail that fell to her tailbone. Dressed in a white top, with short, red sleeves, and a pair of cottony white shorts, Saten Ruiko's sock-clad feet slapped against the hardwood floors of she and Uiharu Kazari's residence, before she leapt into the air, and tossed herself into the waiting arms of Protectron, who caught her without fail, lifting her from the ground, and pressing her waist against its upper torso, as it looked up at her.

"Hello, Love!" Protectron spoke, as it pulled Ruiko into an embrace. Despite the coldness of its body, Ruiko, without hesitation, threw her arms around the synthetic lifeform's neck. Looking into Protectron's eyes, Ruiko retrieved her right arm, and poked at its head with her right hand's index finger.

"How was your day, huh?! What crazy, exciting things did you do? Tell meeee!" Ruiko excitedly demanded. "You should take your helmet off, too. That face is too great to hide."

Protectron awkwardly cocked its head to one side. Emulating the sound of a human being's sigh, it placed Ruiko down on her feet, before it ruffled her hair. "For you. Being Protectron has always been easier than being… "the Awakened". Being an object is simple."

Placing its metallic digits to either side of its 'head', it pressed them into the bottoms of its 'head'; with two small clicks, Protectron's 'head' came loose, and, as Protectron lifted its 'head' with one hand, the synthetic lifeform unplugged a series of wires that snaked from its neck, and into the interior of its 'head' with the other, until each fell. As each wire was unplugged, it snaked automatically back into Protectron's neck.

Protectron ceased to be, as it finished lifting its 'head' away; the Awakened was revealed. What was revealed beneath Protectron's helmet was something that much more resembled a human being. "It" became what Ruiko saw as "him".

His metallic 'skin' was reflective, pristine in its condition, and was colored a shade of dark silver, eyes bright pink in coloration, in line with the rest of the lights on his body. There was an indent at the point in which his scalp and forehead became one, from which a rectangular design was born. A bright line ran from the top of the Awakened's head, to a metallic, vaguely furry-looking 'eyebrow' that sat above either of his eyes, and then continued from the bottom of either of his eyes, to his chin. He had a nose that was approximately the size of an average human male's, with two nostrils. Some distance beneath his nose, was a pair of silver lips.

"See? Now, isn't that better? You don't need that helmet, and, you don't need to be an object. Not here. It doesn't matter where you got this idea that you need to hide yourself, does it? You don't," Saten Ruiko spoke. She stood up on her toes, but still couldn't reach the Awakened.

Leaning down, so that its line of vision was equal with Saten Ruiko's, the Awakened looked into Ruiko's big, blue eyes. Tilting his metallic head to one side, the synthetic lifeform yet again emulated the sound of a human's sigh, lips moving as he did so.

"Many would consider our union to be strange enough, were anyone outside of our closest to learn of it. Some might consider it to be a crime against nature – I am no man, Love, as much as I try to be one. It's easier for all involved to believe that a simple, eccentric "robot" is amongst them, as my fathers have said. The truth could be too much. It's an identity that works."

Ruiko placed her hands on the Awakened's cheeks, their relaxing coolness pleasuring her senses, before she smiled her biggest, warmest, widest smile. If the synthetic lifeform possessed a stomach, it would've fluttered, as Ruiko looked into his glowing pink eyes. Her lips were full, and light pink in coloration – the Awakened knew that this wasn't her lips' natural color, but was, in fact, the result of lipstick being applied to them. The Awakened could 'feel' Ruiko's soft, silky skin pressed against his own hard, smooth metallic outer layer. It felt spectacular. "I think a lot of people could look past that; I did, when I met you for the first time, almost eight years ago, when you were in that… oh my gosh, that getup; and I know that I'm a happier person for it. The only difference between you and me is what we're made of! You're as much of a person as am I, silly!"

Taking the Awakened's hands in her own, Ruiko led the synthetic lifeform back to the couch; she threw herself back onto it with force, giggling; if the Awakened possessed a physical heart, it would've been beating a mile a minute. He performed the same action, but, with considerably less force behind his backwards thrust.

"Eheheh. I miss you. Come 'ere," Ruiko said softly, as she threw her arms around the Awakened's shoulders, as best as she could, given their position. Pulling her legs up, Ruiko snuggled herself up to him. As gently as he could possibly manage, the Awakened, the synthetic lifeform, placed his arm around Saten Ruiko. "As I was asking earlier, how're you doing, stranger?! I haven't seen you in a long time!"

The synthetic lifeform's lips curled into a smile, as he played with strands of Ruiko's ponytail, twirling them between his metallic digits. "I'm well enough, all things taken into careful consideration, "stranger". It's been too long since we last spent time with one another. Yourself, Love?"

"You know! Surviving," Ruiko answered. "You should pick up your clothes, before you forget, by the way. You were saying, earlier, that you went off with Anti Skill to the underground mall? Was everything okay? You were gone a while."

Dropping the remote, the Awakened's available arm extended outwards, and, in his hand, the Awakened scooped up the clothing he'd been wearing. Arm retracing, the synthetic lifeform placed the heap in his lap. "All was well, Love; boringly so.

"Either, the mall's sprinkler systems had been encountering some type of problem, or, a prank was played. The mall's encountered both instances before. By the time I'd checked the premises for any type of terrorist paraphernalia, the mall's security force had already begun to take measures to prevent hysteria. They were doing quite the job, I must say."

Saten Ruiko produced a soft sigh of relief, as she let her head fall into the Awakened's lap. Regardless of the fact that a pile of clothes would've cushioned her head's descent, the Awakened still, with blindingly quick reflexes, caught Ruiko's head in his hands, and gently lowered her down, in the direction that she sought to travel in.

"That's a relief. I'm… wow, I'm really pooped. Hard shift today. It seemed like customers just wouldn't stop arriving in droves. I'm glad I got to see you before I passed out. I mean, I won't pass out just yet! I've still got some fight in me!" Ruiko exclaimed, giggling awkwardly.

"Lunar Elegance is… quite the haunt, for quite the odd bunch," the Awakened remarked.

Ruiko closed her eyes, as she lowered the synthetic lifeform's hands down to her shoulders with her own. "Can I get a massage? Shoulders, and neck, are killing mmeeeeeee. Pretty please?" As the synthetic lifeform immediately proceeded to go about the task that had been set before him, Ruiko produced a rather loud groan of pleasure.

Though the Awakened's hands were cold, the coolness was relaxing; it felt like her skin was being pressed against porcelain. His touch was soft, despite the incredible strength Ruiko knew him to posses. Ruiko proceeded to continue with her response, after another small, relieved groan. "You could say that the Dianoid is "quite the place". It'd be really easy to just assume that everyone who hangs around there is a stuck-up snob, but, that's not true, honestly."

"It isn't?" The Awakened inquired. Ruiko rolled her shoulders, as his metallic digits ironed out their kinks. Allowing her legs to dangle over the arm of the couch, Ruiko shifted in place, as her lips began to curl into a small, pleasured grin.

"Noooo. I've got to say, the Dianoid has a lot of nice people. Customers, employees of the different stores and the other restaurants, a lot of people are really cool. I mean, don't misunderstand me, there're a LOT of…"

"Dicks," the Awakened stated, assisting Ruiko in completing her statement.

With a giggle, Ruiko opened her eyes, and shook her head. "Not quite "dicks". Some are close to reaching "dick" levels of meanness, but, nobody's properly reached that point, just yet. Honestly, the worst I've ever encountered, was, ironically… well, Worst. As in, Misaka Worst, Mikoto's Sister."

The Awakened's lips curled into a frown, though his massaging didn't stop. Love was clearly enjoying herself, and, therefore, Awakened had no excuse to cease his actions. One of his few purposes in life was to bring Love happiness, and joy. "Mm. The Sisters."

"/Enablecaptainslog: Captain's Log:/ - /return. Entry date: 2014-10-09: Shameful business, all of that. To think, there were individuals in power who condoned the mass slaughtering of innocents, as a means to an end. Though before my time, I still have knowledge. Inborn knowing of these incidents, for what reason I cannot possibly know. Quite troublesome. To find vengeance would serve no purpose; those who have not already been brought to justice lurk in places dark. I know these places, as I know all things, yet, what would be the point? To destroy would bring me down to the Accelerator's level. I am no monster. I am no murderer. I…

Recreation sequence initiated. /Beginquote: "Oh."

"It's dark."

"It feels like I'm sinking into deep waters."

"Is this death?"

/Endquote. Recreation sequence complete. Returning to Free Roam. Returning to Love. /return."

"Awakened? Awakened?! Hello? Yoo-hoo! Awakened? Everything okay?" Ruiko inquired. For a moment, the synthetic lifeform continued to stare, blankly at the turned off television across from him, his hands still gently massaging. "Awakened, you're scaring me. Are you alright?"

With a start, the Awakened returned. Shaking his head, the synthetic lifeform looked down to Ruiko, and smiled. "Forgive me, Love. My brain was forced into a recreation sequence, while I was attempting to record a Captain's Log. Quite disturbing to hear. It was something of a struggle to break the sequence, but, I've succeeded in doing so."

Ruiko frowned, as she gently moved the synthetic lifeform's hands from her shoulders, and took them into her own. "It was when I mentioned Worst, wasn't it? Sorry… I forget sometimes, you… you know about almost everything that's ever happened. I didn't mean to, Awakened. It must be hard, being… being tied into the City like that. I couldn't even begin to imagine it. There has been a lot of messed up things that've happened. I love you."

"And I love you, as well," the Awakened stated. "There's no need to apologize; most incidents do not trigger such a volatile response from my brain. The events surrounding Misaka-san's Sisters are particularly traumatic. I dearly wish that the Sisters' Saviors, as they are called, finished what they started. Sadly, I can't do so myself."

"Finish… what they started? Awakened, you don't mean…?" Ruiko shook her head. "It wasn't his fault, Awakened. They were using him. You know that, you're just angry, and I can't say I blame you! Mikoto's one of my best friends; I love her as much as I love your sister. Knowing that, when we were children, barely teenagers, she was holding in that kind of pain, it nearly made me think the same thing you do. I wanted him, Accelerator-san, to suffer just as much as you do, but… times change. So do people, and the way we all think."

"Do you well and truly believe that, Love? I don't know what I should believe. Ignorance is bliss, but, ignorance is not a commodity that I can afford. This is precisely why I so thoroughly enjoy the persona of "Protectron"; there's an innocence behind it all," the Awakened explained. "There's an old adage that goes, "time heals all wounds". Does it? Or does time help those who've been wronged forget about their wounds, despite, or perhaps because of their festering? I feel that the Accelerator should be treated as any criminal is. I can never be the executioner, but, one should be noble enough to do what needs to be done."

Ruiko ran her fingers across one of the Awakened's metallic cheeks. Smiling thinly, she tiled her head to the side. "You know? I can't say I agree with you, Awakened..."

The synthetic lifeform gave a nod. "I understand, Love. I wouldn't demand that you do. We're all entitled to our own feelings, and thoughts."

"… but I can understand why you feel the way that you do, too, about a lot of things," Ruiko finished. "I can understand why you feel strongly about all the things that've gone under the radar. I didn't even know about any of this until a few years ago. Your sister just sort of found out on her own; I guess working with the City makes that happen. She's… she's taken it all really well."

The Awakened flicked on the television, with the remote, and then smiled down at Ruiko. "Our conversation took a dark turn. Might we let it pass? I'd much prefer it if our dwindling moments together on this evening were spent focusing on matters of a more positive light."

"Fine by me," Ruiko replied. "Yeah. Let's just let this pass. Gotta stay positive, right? That's the best way to play it safe, I think."

For a while, the two lifeforms, one natural, born of a father's seed and a mother's womb, the other synthetic, born of metal, wires, and an artificial spark of life in a geothermal power station, sat together. Ruiko was eventually given possession of the television remote, to which she changed the channel to a station whose programming was more focused on comedy.

Another door behind the two lifeforms opened, and then closed, with some force. The Awakened craned his neck; as he expected, it was the home's only other current occupant, a pointy-haired boy. His hair was spiked, even more so than usual; it stood taller, and was less casual than how it usually appeared. Clad in a tight-fitting, blue and black, vertically striped V neck shirt, and a pair of dark, and equally tight-fitting sweatpants, whose cuffs covered the tongues of a pair of particularly expensive-looking orange and silver trainers, the boy raised his right hand.

"Oi, pops. Didn't know you were home," the boy spoke. "I see at least half of… someone. I know Kazari doesn't wear girly blue socks like that, so… it's got to be Ruiko."

"Hey!" Ruiko proclaimed. "Don't make fun of my socks, you! I happen to like them a lot!"

"And that's why I make fun of them," the boy shot back. "I should shut up, before pops kicks my ass."

"Hey there, champ." The Awakened spoke. Ruiko smiled, as she picked herself up, and moved from the synthetic lifeform's lap, allowing him to rise up from the couch. Doing so, the Awakened made his way over to the boy, and offered him a hand.

"A handshake? Come off it, you big suck. I'll give you a damn hug. A manly one, though. None of that "booboo I love you" shit, be a man."

Wrapping their left, and right arm around one another, respectively, father and son embraced in a way that was just "manly" enough to satisfy both. With a smirk, the pointy-haired boy broke away.

"So, Touka, the great "man" of the house? How was school?" The Awakened inquired.

"Typical Tokiwadai shit," Touka remarked, as he traversed into the kitchen, the Awakened heard the sound of the refrigerator door being pried open, before the rattling of glass bottles could be heard. Following the sound of the door being closed, the pointy-haired boy emerged from the kitchen's right entranceway with a bottle of soda in hand.

"Just how many of those have you had, boy? Got to watch your sugar intake," the Awakened remarked, to which Touka scoffed. The pointy-haired took a long sip, and then folded his arms across his chest.

"Alright, mom, whatever you say."

Ruiko, who'd sat herself up properly on the couch, produced a small giggle. "I remember Tokiwadai, even before they started letting little boys in. It was… actually a pretty intimidating place. Rich girls' school. Misaki, Mikoto and Mitsuko, just to name a few girls were really nice, but, there were a few bad apples."

"Little boys? Ha, most of 'em are. Not me. I'm going to be the ninth level five. Tokiwadai's become a joke, needs a fixer-upper. Mitsuko? That's the forehead girl, right?" Touka inquired. "She can get this dick. So can Misaka-san… I'd say something smart about Kamijou-san, but her man scares the shit out of me; I'm manly enough to admit it!" Turning to his father, Touka grinned malevolently. "Eheheh. Imagine making Misaka-san spark up, when you plug your, um, prongs, into, her, uh… socket. Yeah, that sounded a lot better in my head. Point being, she's HOT! Great curves, dude!"

The Awakened shook his head in disappointment, as he placed his arm around his son's shoulder, and pulled him close, with a rather forceful tug. Touka started, at first, but quickly adapted to the pace of his father's sudden action.

"I don't have "prongs". Besides, listen, champ; you're never going to find a girlfriend with an attitude like the one you're showing off to us right now. I know that's not really you. I've known you for a long time. Well, I also keep tabs on you; enough to know all about what you keep in your closet; poetr…"

"Shut it, old man!" Touka fumed; Ruiko held back a giggle, as she could practically see the smoke being pushed from the pointy-haired boy's ears. "Not putting up with you! Quit goin' through my stuff, too! That's private!"

As Touka stormed back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him, the Awakened looked to Saten Ruiko, and shook his head. "Hormones… the most potent of all mind-bending drugs."

The young woman nodded in agreement. "Yup. He seems more grumpy than usual, though. Maybe we should talk to him? I hope everything's going okay for him, at school. You haven't heard anything from any teachers, right?"

To Ruiko's concern, the Awakened nodded his head, though, he didn't appear to be answering "yes", or "no", to the question she'd posed. Instead, his lips curled into a grin.

"One or two fights; nothing particularly major. That dorm manager is overzealous. Someone hits my boy? I expect him to hit back."

"Honestly," Ruiko stated, exasperated. Still, her own lips had curled into a small grin, as she fell forwards, and sprawled herself out, legs dangling over the arm of the couch, arms splayed out awkwardly. With a groan, the young woman turned her neck, so that her eyes could look in the direction of the standing, synthetic lifeform.

"Wanna do my back? It's sooorreeeee."


	11. Light In The Darkness II

Accelerator had to admit; the "Grand Kingdom", despite its name, was anything but generic. It certainly wasn't the "kiddie park" he'd thought it to be. It was a far-reaching, immense location. Surrounded by high, metallic fences, their chain-link fabric ornate in its design. The chain links were arranged in various, fantastical designs; knights, mounted on brave steeds, multistory towers, gryphons, and, depictions of a creature that made chills travel down Accelerator's spine; a serpentine, eastern dragon, with long, cat-like whiskers, and wide, opened jaws, full of triangular teeth. A long, forked tongue emerged from the creature's mouth.

Beyond the fences, were towering structures, rollercoasters, grand, sprawling castles, and, in the center of the park sat what appeared to be some type of gargantuan, twisted-looking, black and green spike, which rose higher than any other attraction that Accelerator could lay his eyes on. It curved, and zigzagged, its surfaces covered in perpetually shaking, contorting, thorny growths.

The Grand Kingdom's front gates, which Academy City's "top dog" and the married couple stood in front of were monumental. Two monolithic slabs were wide open, revealing the Grand Kingdom proper; the slab-gates were made up of ten towering, delicately carved tree trunks, that had been tied together, with thick, secured chain link straps. The slabs of dark brown trunks loomed over the trio, casting domineering shadows over everything that dared to exist around them.

In the center of either slab-gate, there was a great, burning torch. The trio could tell that neither torch was actually made of wood; they shined too much beneath the sun's beams to be made of wood. The material almost looked like some type of metal. The flames that crackled around either torch weren't setting fire to the tree trunks behind them, and, as such, the trio safely came to the conclusion that the flames weren't "authentic", either. Likely just projections of some type.

Though the trio didn't know it, they found themselves in a similar predicament to a certain French princess, and a certain "almighty" thunder god; the line of other individuals who were also waiting to enter the Grand Kingdom was as monumental as the gates themselves.

"How many fucking dumbasses are we stuck behind? Want to count, hero, fifth ranked?" Accelerator grumbled, before he folded his arms behind his head, and produced a soft "tch".

"I'm going to take a wild guess, and, say… uh… hundreds?" Touma spoke, sounding rather perturbed. "At least the line looks like it's moving."

Indeed; at Touma's statement, Kamijou Misaki took a look around. The line, though long, almost dishearteningly so, was steadily moving forward, every couple of seconds. With her husband's hand in her own, Misaki looked to her left, and then to her right; cobbled walkways, shops, and restrooms, the same structures, the same ones. She'd already looked about on multiple occasions, though, it was better than perpetually looking straight ahead and staring at the back of a young man's shirt, and his Gekota snapback hat; Misaki half-contemplated snapping a picture, and sending it to Misaka Mikoto, in order to get a rise out of the Railgun. "Misaka-san! I found your new soul mate!"

Misaki took another few steps forward, as the line moved yet again. Accelerator wasn't far behind Misaki and her husband. Following his stretch, Accelerator let his arms hang back at his sides, as he produced a soft grunt.

"So, hero, fifth ranked. Talk to me. What stupid shit have you been getting into? How are… uh… your parents, hero? They, uh… they seemed pretty alright, at your wedding," Accelerator remarked. "Haven't seen much of them since."

Touma turned his gaze to the "top dog" of Academy City, and smirked. "Why so awkward, man? You don't have to walk on eggshells. Just say what's on your mind. Misaki and me aren't going to judge you." Accelerator shrugged, and offered Touma a small grin in response, before Touma proceeded to begin answering Accelerator's question.

"They're good. Talked to them the other day; Misaki got to the phone, first, and, my mom, man… she's a talker. It's nice, though. I'm really grateful that Misaki and my parents are tightly knit. Same with Index, and even Othi-chan, but… they don't really know what Othi-chan is, or all that much about Index's past, you know? Not trying to keep anything from them, but, it's for the best."

Accelerator nodded, knowingly. "Yeah. I got it, hero. No need to drag them into that shit. They're nice, normal fucking people. Enough of us have been through Hell and back, because of all this… you know. The shit." The "top dog's" voice dropped to a whisper. "The "Other Side."

Quickly attempting to change the subject, Accelerator turned his gaze to Kamijou Misaki, who smiled warmly at him, and waved with her available hand. "How're yours, fifth ranked? Hero and the in-laws getting along any better? Or are they still being fucky?"

"Accel, man… I dunno if Misaki's gonna want to…" Touma began; but, before he could do speak, Misaki stood up on her toes, and shushed her husband with a kiss on his lips. Falling back down to a flat-footed stance, Misaki looked up to Touma.

"Let Accelerator-san ask his question, my prince. The answer is nothing that I am ashamed of, and you certainly have nothing to be ashamed of."

Kamijou Misaki softly cleared her throat, before she looked to Accelerator once again. The number one raised an eyebrow, as the line moved. He stepped to the side, in order to avoid being swept down by the human tide, that was lurking behind him. "My parents and I still have some trouble seeing eye to eye on… important matters. They can either remove themselves from their bigoted, intolerant ways, or, we can remain estranged. It is up to them. I do not think that either of them will understand that there is more to life, and more to love than yen, and business relations. To answer your question, Accelerator-san, forgive me for the tangent, my parents still refuse to speak with my husband. They hardly even speak to me." Misaki sighed, quietly, to herself. "They never really did."

Accelerator spat onto the ground, and gritted his teeth. "Fucking ingrates."

Touma shrugged indifferently. "It's whatever. I'd really like to get to know my wife's parents better, the way Misaki's gotten to know mine, but, they never really liked me. That's not what matters, though. What matters is that Misaki likes me." Touma turned to Misaki, and raised an eyebrow. Attempting to hold back his laughter, he inquired, "you DO like me, right?"

Misaki failed where Touma succeeded; she giggled softly, as she nuzzled her husband's shoulder, with the side of her face, messing her bangs. She couldn't care less. She just wanted to show her husband affection; hair could be combed. "Do I? Hm. Well, I guess you are alright, for a mere commoner."

Fighting back the urge to lift his wife away from the safety of the ground beneath their feet, and carry her like the Queen she was, Touma instead wrapped his arm around Misaki's shoulder, and pulled her close, as the trio walked a few more steps, and, then, a few more. Kamijou Misaki wrapped her arms around her husband's waist, smiling warmly. "I'll try harder to please you," Touma lowered himself downwards, and, placing his lips against his wife's ear, he whispered, "and I do mean please you… Ojou-Sama."

A pleasured chill ran down Touma's spine, as the inherently male part of his brain began to kick into gear. In his mind's eye, he could see himself dropping to his knees, allowing himself to shed his "alpha" outer layer, and embrace submissiveness. Touma could see himself serving his wife's every whim, tending to her, like a lowly, dirt poor servant to a wealthy Queen. The idea aroused Touma greatly, and sent shockwaves of desire pulsing throughout his body. Touma wanted to submit, entirely, to his beloved; if Touma didn't have almost Saint-like restraint, he might've found himself falling to his knees, there and then.

"Since you asked how we are doing, I suppose we should ask you, as well. How are Yomikawa-san and Yoshikawa-san?" A blushing Misaki inquired, to which Accelerator initially responded by chuckling. Kamijou Touma snapped out of his fantasy world, with a slight start. Kamijou Misaki looked to her husband, and winked knowingly.

"Well, Yomikawa's still an old drunk. When she's not out with the pink teacher brat, she's usually doing Anti Skill shit with the other one. What's her name? Green hair, long, used to have glasses… Tessou. That was it.

"Yoshikawa just dicks around with her science friends. The Birdway brat's sister, the one that's actually fucking tolerable, and her are cool. They fucking blew up Birdway's lab, or something, in her house. Naturally, neither of the twats were upset about it."

"Blew up Patricia's lab?!" Both Touma and Misaki practically shouted in shock.

"Relax, fucking heroes, they're both fine," Accelerator remarked, as the trio took yet another step. "Only reason I know, is because Yoshikawa texted me a picture of her and Birdway, looking like they were out of one of those old American cartoons, after the dumbass animals blow each other up. All black. Caption was some shit like… fuck it, here, I'll just show you."

Producing his phone, Accelerator unlocked the device, and tapped on the device's gallery app, where it stored received pictures, and those that had been taken with its built-in camera. Opening the photo in question, Accelerator handed it off to the married couple. Sitting in Touma's hands, Misaki looked down at the phone, which her husband offered to her. Misaki declined with a smile, and with a polite shake of her head.

Indeed, on the device's tempered glass touchscreen, there was a photo which depicted the smiling faces of both Yoshikawa Kikyou and Patricia Birdway. The couple could see that Kikyou's arms were outstretched, holding the phone she was using to take her photo with away from her, while Patricia had her right arm wrapped around Kikyou's shoulders. Her left was curved, her left arm's hand placed against the corresponding hip.

The two young women stood in front of an upper class, multistory home, though, due to their closeness to the camera, the couple couldn't quite make out the finer details of the home. It clearly had a light brown roof, and, to one side, up two semicircular flights of steps that were opposite one another, a large, wooden and glass door. Touma could make out what appeared to be the edge of a statue, or, perhaps a fountain in the center of the cobbled driveway.

The young women were, as Accelerator had described, both covered in what almost looked like soot; their faces were the least harmed, and, the couple could tell that both young women had been wearing safety goggles; on either of their faces, there was a vaguely goggle-shaped patch of pink skin, around their eyes, and above their noses.

Their white lab coats had taken the brunt of the explosion, or, whatever the catastrophe had been. Patricia's hair, which the couple knew to be golden, almost snowy white in coloration, was tied back, and had been covered in soot, as well, though the young woman didn't appear to be concerned about this fact. Kikyou's dark blue hair hardly looked different; if anything, it just looked a bit darker than normal, as if she'd dyed it.

The caption beneath the photo, typed in a large, white font, caused Touma to fall away from his wife, laughing, as Misaki's lips curled into a wide, toothy smirk. Accelerator grinned, knowingly; he had a feeling the married couple would enjoy Kikyou's "odd" sense of humor.

"WE'RE MANIACS! WE BLEW IT UP! (we were trying to create a walking microwave fyi)"

"A… a walking microwave?!" Touma proclaimed, as he nearly stumbled out of the crowd. Accelerator grabbed Touma's well-muscled arm, and yanked him back with all the force his scrawny form could muster. "W-w…. w-w… WHY… were they trying to make a WALKING MICROWAVE?!" Touma's laughter turned to awkward, seal-like barking, as Misaki took her husband into her arms, and began to pat him on the back, as if to comfort him. Touma's arms went around his wife's shoulders, as he held her close to his rapidly rising and falling chest. As Touma laughed heartily, Misaki's smile only grew. Her cheeks began to glow a bright pink, as she nuzzled her husband, lovingly, with the side of her face.

"What's so fucking funny, hero? It's just… actually, yeah, a walking microwave is kind of funny, isn't it?" Accelerator confessed, as he took his phone back from Touma.

"It's… it's not the concept that's all that funny… it's just… I think there's something wrong with my brain," Touma spoke, as he struggled to get himself under control. Misaki moved Touma forward, as the line continued to move; they were closer to the gates of the Grand Kingdom than ever before. They were at least three quarters of the way to the large, metallic greeting booth that sat between the gates. "Okay, so, in my head, I saw a microwave, right? With little arms, and… oh my God… little legs, tap-dancing, with a fucking top hat. Dress shoes and everything."

"You're fucking insane, hero," Accelerator mirthfully remarked.

Though there was a chorus of many voices surrounding the trio, there was one loud, happy voice that rose above all the others. Touma's mind acknowledged and recognized it almost immediately, as did Misaki's. It took Accelerator a few seconds to recognize the source of the overjoyed vocalization.

"UNCLE TOUMA! UNCLE EXCELLRATER! AUNT MISAKI!"

"H-hold on! Daiicchhhiiiii!"

Touma smirked at Misaki, and nodded. "Be right back. I'll return bearing gifts."

Touma was quick to scoop the five-year-old boy who had come running in his direction up into his arms; the boy laughed in joy, as he placed his little hands on either of Touma's cheeks. Touma lifted him up, and held him in the air. "DAICHI!" Touma exclaimed, as the boy giggled.

The boy's smile only grew, as his fluffy, dirty blonde hair blew about in the breeze. Touma looked into the boy's cedar-colored eyes, and smiled wider; the boy's smile grew with his uncle's.

"You've got your papa's hair, and your mama's eyes… Hell, your face looks just like your mama's. God, you're such a big boy, now. Five years old… wow."

Clad in a long sleeved, black shirt, and a short sleeved white shirt on top of it, little, knee-length jean shorts, and a pair of high top, black and white shoes, with white shoelaces, the boy was the image of happiness. As Touma proceeded to gently twirl him in the air, the boy completely comfortable and secure in Touma's hands, a part of him felt horribly guilty for wishing that the child was he and Misaki's own.

From a group of smiling, chatting young women, one young woman in particular, came walking towards Touma. Curly, golden blonde hair fell past her shoulders, and, on the top of her head, she wore a dark blue beret. She had big, wide, light blue eyes, and full, pink lips. A dark blue, short sleeved shirt clothed her torso, while a pair of cottony, coral-colored shorts adorned her waist, and her upper thighs. On her feet, the young woman wore a pair of dark blue canvas shoes, with shoelaces to match.

"It's always only been you, uncle Touma… Daichi never runs off unless it's you, it's still so funny to me," Hamazura Fremea remarked.

"Fremeeaaaa. Hey, sweetheart," Touma softly remarked. Setting Hamazura Daichi down, the boy dutifully returned to his adopted sister's side, and took her hand in his own. As always, Touma was impressed by the boy's incredible behavior; Hamazura Shiage and Hamazura Rikou were certainly good parents. Again, Kamijou Touma found his mind trekking back to that realm; what kind of parents would he and Kamijou Misaki be? Could they ever be?

"Uncle Touma! Guess what I did?" Daichi exclaimed. Fremea, with her available hand, ruffled the boy's hair. He nuzzled his sister's hand affectionately; his smile looked like it was going to tear his cheeks apart, it was so wide.

"What'd you do, my little man? What great quests have you completed, huh?" Touma questioned, as he crouched down, in order for his vision to be on the same level as Daichi's own.

An almost sinister smirk appeared on the boy's face, as he leaned in. With his lips pressed against Touma's ear, he whispered, "I got a girlfriend."

Touma stepped back, mouth wide, in exaggerated shock, eyebrows raised. Touma opened his arms, and took a deep breath, as if he'd been shocked by the revelation. "You player! I always knew you were a little ladies' man! Watch them, though! Only women you go anywhere with are your sister and mama, right?"

Daichi giggled, as he returned to the side of a grinning Fremea. "Right! Just Fremmie and mama."

"Back when I was your age, we didn't kiss the girls… we stayed away from the girls. Bugs, right? They're all covered in nasty little bugs!" Touma exclaimed, as he rapidly wiggled his fingers, for emphasis.

"BUGS?!" Daichi said, excitedly, his cedar-colored eyes widening. "I like bugs. Where are they? Papa told me to watch some of them, though. They sting."

Touma grinned, as he rose up to his full height. Turning back, to where his wife and old friend stood, he could see that the line was moving a bit more slowly than it had been previously; this suited his wants just fine. Misaki blew him a kiss. Touma returned the favor, and then turned his attention back to Fremea and Daichi. "That's right, little man. Some bugs can sting you, or bite you, if you're not careful. It's good that you know that."

Daichi nodded sagely, and crossed his arms. "It's good to put them back, too, when you're done playing with them. If they live in the park, that's where they stay. Gently, too, so you don't hurt their legs, or their wings!"

Touma's features softened, as he looked into the eyes of the Hamazuras' love made flesh. "He's such a smart little man. Is there anything he doesn't know?"

Fremea gently tugged on her adoptive brother's cheek, causing him to laugh. "Okay, wildlife specialist. You can stop showing off to uncle Touma, now."

"Mmmm," Daichi looked to the ground, and his face lit up. His cheeks became bright pink, as he awkwardly kicked the asphalt lightly with his foot. "I wanted you to notice, Fremmie…"

Fremea's face lit up an even brighter shade of pink. "Daichi! AH! Y-you're too sweet! Ah! My baby brother! You're so PRECIOUS! Come heeeere!" Scooping Daichi up in her arms, Fremea hoisted the boy up, and kissed him on the cheek, causing him to laugh. Touma couldn't help but join the boy in his laughter; he was so merry, such a happy, carefree child.

"So, what're you two going to get up to?" Touma inquired, as he scratched the back of his neck. "You with that big group of girls, sweetheart?"

Fremea nodded, as Daichi gently played with her curly hair, and occasionally kissed her cheek, causing the young woman to blush. "Yeah. I came with my friends, but, there's not a lot Daichi can really do. No way I'd ever let him go in the Citadel. Even if I did, if mom and dad found out…" Fremea shivered. "That's okay, though! I'm cool with going on the children's rides with him. I wasn't going to come to this brand, spanking new park and just leave my baby brother at home. Besides, mom and dad… they get into… uh… you know, when Daichi's napping." Fremea grinned awkwardly, and Touma chuckled, knowingly. She approached, and, moving Daichi away from she and her uncle, but still keeping her grip as tight as she possibly could, Fremea whispered, "I was looking for a bottle of shampoo in mom's closet, and… I found a bunny outfit."

"He's still into that? Was it… you know? Erotic? Not just, like, a bunny outfit, like a mascot's costume?"

Fremea nodded. "E-erotic. Fishnet stockings, big old bunny ears… the works. Yuck. I don't know why my dad likes bunny girls."

Touma chuckled, as he shook his head. "Yeah. Your mom and dad deserve it, though," Touma remarked. "Hey, Fremea, sweetheart, if you want some time, you know, with your friends, I'm sure the missus and Accel-chan over there," Touma motioned towards the two, "wouldn't mind it if we brought Daichi the Bug Boy around with us, at least until we hit the Citadel of Dread. How scary is that place, by the way?"

Fremea smiled politely, but shook her head. "Really scary. Apparently you have to sign a waiver before you can go in, and they even take your blood pressure, and have paramedics on site, if people who left reviews on the Kingdom's page are to be believed; and, thanks, uncle Touma, but, I don't mind. I love spending time with my baby brother. He's the best. He's so polite, and well-behaved, and… eheheh… when he gets tired, he just gets really giggly… he laughs at everything. He's not even tired right now, and he's all giggly. Watch."

Fremea turned her face towards Daichi, and looked into his eyes. "Potato!" she exclaimed; Daichi broke down into a giggling fit, as he stated, excitedly, "potato! Silly Fremmie!"

Fremea's eyes widened, as she motioned towards the line. "You've got to go, uncle Touma! Or you'll be stuck back here, with a bunch of girls, and the Potato Boy."

Touma chuckled, as he patted the laughing boy on the head with his left hand; he kept his right hand as far away from Hamazura Daichi as he possibly could, like it was some sort of infected, unholy thing.

"Yeah, you're right. I've spent enough time being surrounded by girls… I'll tell you all about it, someday, when you're a bit older. You take care, sweetheart; tell your mom and dad I said "hey"? Your old man and me need to bring it together, at some point," Touma spoke.

"You don't think I remember, uncle Touma? "Kami Disease?" Hamazura Fremea winked. "I'll tell them. I'll tell my dad, too; he needs a day off. Mom takes care of him, don't worry, but, he's a bit stressed these days."

"Your dad knows how to unwind. It's just going to take some of his old buddies to get him out of it. We'll un-stretch your old man," Touma spoke, before he rushed after his wife, and his other old friend. "Take it easy. Watch out for boys! Speaking of boys, see ya, potato boy!"

Daichi waved, as he exclaimed, "bye, uncle Touma! Don't get bugs!"

Fremea's cheeks turned to a shade of pink, as Touma ran back to the side of his wife, and his old friend, Accelerator. "Boys". A singular boy was certainly rather relevant to her interests. Had her uncle known? Surely, that was impossible.

As Touma fell back in line with Misaki and Accelerator, the former of whom immediately took his arm in her own, Misaki turned to look up at her husband. "Daichi is… so adorable. Oh, my… did you see how he was kissing his sister's cheek?! He is such a CUTE little thing!" Misaki practically squealed in joy.

"Oi, fifth ranked, hero, we're next," Accelerator remarked. Touma's vision fell to the area directly in front of him. Indeed, though he hadn't noticed until Accelerator pointed it out, but, he, his wife, and Academy City's "top dog" were next in line. Being so close to the monolithic gates was almost intimidating for Touma; they were even taller, when they were viewed from up close, which made enough sense to the young man.

He also discovered the means through which the Grand Kingdom kept the line at the park's entrance moving at a brisk pace; there were a total of eight metallic greeting booths, each of which had four attendants, who were dutifully going about their tasks.

Preparing himself, Touma moved to pull his wallet up from his pocket, before he looked to his wife, who appeared to have beaten him to the punch. Reaching into her purse, she produced her own large leather wallet. It was bright golden in coloration, with a number of white stripes running both horizontally and vertically over its surface. Unzipping it, she pulled her debit card out, and smiled warmly at her husband. "I have been keeping track, my love. Would you like to pay?"

Touma shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me, Ojou-Sama; money comes from the same place, doesn't matter whose card, right? Thanks for the offer, though, you."

"You are fond of calling me that, aren't you?" Misaki inquired. "I enjoy this. You may continue." The Mental Out user held her head high, and closed her eyes, as she puffed her chest out. She produced a soft "hmph"; it only served to create an awkward bulge in her husband's pants, one which he quickly willed away, before it had the chance to grow. "Settle down, big guy… shush down there."

Accelerator began to walk towards the first available booth; however, from the opposite side, the left, the trio heard a loud proclamation. "I can help you over here, Kami-yan!"

"Kami-yan…?" Touma wondered aloud. Misaki raised an eyebrow, as she turned her gaze to the second greeting booth, on the left. Her eyes widened as a blonde-haired, shades-wearing, uniform and hat-clad young man waved she, her husband, and her old friend in his direction.

"Fucking Tsuchimikado?" Accelerator grumbled. "Whatever. What kind of shit has that idiot got himself into?"

Touma shrugged, as the trio began to approach the greeting booth. Its front counter was semicircular, and appeared to be made out of smooth metal, with rubber around its edges. Indeed, one of the three individuals behind the greeting booth's panes of thick-looking, handprint-smeared translucent plastic was Tsuchimikado Motoharu.

A red hat, bearing the logo of the Grand Kingdom – the silhouette of what appeared to be a castle sat neatly in its center - was worn on his head, and obscured at least the bottom half of his full head of spiked, blonde hair. A pair of sunglasses adorned his face – they were tinted to the point that no one among the trio could see the eyes that hid behind them. His earlobes were pierced, and two large jewel-encrusted earrings sat in the center of either lobe. The top half of Tsuchimikado Motoharu was all that the trio could see; he was clad in a collared, red and light pink shirt, with baggy, short sleeves. A small nametag that sat, crooked on his right breast read "Tsuchimikado".

More surprising were the two other uniformed young people who manned the greeting booth with Motoharu. The fourth among the uniformed people seemed to be a completely normal young man – almost too normal. Touma was immediately struck with the sense that he knew this man. Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki were stuck by sudden suspicion, while Accelerator raised an eyebrow, as his vision was cast over the opposite trio, and then to the normal-looking young man.

Next to Tsuchimikado Motoharu was a tall, broad shouldered young man, with a miffed facial expression that screamed "I'd rather be anywhere else right now". The young man's eyes were dark brown in coloration, and, he had a full head of short, neatly-trimmed bright red hair – evidently, he'd taken his own hat off - and, beneath his right eye, there was a tattoo that depicted a barcode, which was made up of eight black bars, of varying widths. His outer ears were pierced, with five small golden bands. On all eight of his fingers, and both of his thumbs, he wore two tightly-bound silver rings.

Standing next to the red-haired young man was a young woman, whose facial expression was one of suspicion. She had large, almost glossy-looking light blue eyes, and shoulder-length, tidily combed ash blonde hair, which fell straight, just slightly past her shoulders. Her body had a natural hourglass shape to it, and, even with her uniform on, the trio could tell that she was rather well-endowed.

Touma could tell that Misaki's eyes, too, had fallen upon the fourth individual in the greeting booth. Her starry eyes were focused on him, and him alone, as her eyelids narrowed in further suspicion. She, too, had seen this young man somewhere before.

Then, husband and wife were reminded of exactly who this normal young man, someone you could find anywhere, was, as he nonchalantly greeted them.

"Hey, Imagine Breaker, Mental Out… and, the Accelerator, of course."

Clad in the same uniform as his trio of compatriots, the normal-looking young man possessed light brown eyes, and a head of thick, brown, medium length hair, the bangs of which were gracefully swept to the right. He wasn't as tall, or as muscular as his male comrades, but, for what he lacked in height, and in burliness, he made up for in looks. The young man was the definition of handsome – his facial features were delicately chiseled, his jawline the image of perfection. His cheekbones were flawless, in their level of elevation. He had a very faint five o'clock shadow that covered the lower half of his face, shaved perfectly, ending at his jawline in a flawless semicircle. He was like something that had leapt from the pages of a fashion magazine; at least, the young women who observed him from afar thought so. Kamijou Misaki wasn't among those young women.

"You are quite the sight to see; I suppose that goes for all of you. What are all of you even doing here?" Misaki inquired, as Touma looked to Accelerator. Both the Bearer of the Imagine Breaker, and the "top dog" of Academy City wore looks of suspicion and concern.

"Why can't anything we try to do just be normal, Accel? If the Rookie's here, things are anything but normal, I just know it," Touma complained. Accelerator uncharacteristically placed a hand on the taller, and much burlier man's shoulder.

"Hero, it'll be good. We won't let whatever stupid shit's going down fuck with our day. I won't fucking allow it," Accelerator snapped.

"Long story, Mrs. Kami-yan!" Motoharu exclaimed, as he leaned forward inside of the booth. The girl with the ash blonde hair rolled her eyes, as she turned her attention to the normal young man.

"So… Kamisato-san… what do you say? I m-mean… we've only just met, but… eheheh… I really like you. I don't know w-what it is! You just have this c-charm about you! W-we're at an amusement park, after all… the c-chances for a ro… romantic date are… a-abnormally high!"

The completely normal young man sighed, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He'd done this song and dance a thousand times. It was only the end result of the trials, and the tribulations, that mattered. "We'll see, Floris-san."

"Flori-chan?!" Touma nearly shouted. "I didn't even recognize you! But… if you're here… then, does that mean…"

"No," the red-haired young man stated, firmly. "Lessar isn't here. Floris is the only former Lew Night… er, former New Light member present. Do you think we were stupid enough to allow someone like Lessar to enter Academy City, Imagine Breaker? As hard as it might be for you, think. Just don't hurt yourself in the process."

"Watch your "clever" mouth, Stiyl Magnus," Misaki uncharacteristically snarled, as she slammed a fist into the metallic greeting booth's semicircular counter, brow furrowed. The booth's counter shook from the impact, violently so, nearly snapping away from the booth proper. The metal that connected the counter to the booth had groaned beneath Misaki's fist's impact with the counter. Misaki only felt a dull feeling of mild irritation in her closed fist. Her well-muscled arms had tightened, and the dark aura the young woman radiated was enough to cause Stiyl to take a few steps back. Placing both of her hands on the booth's bent counter, her lips parted, and curled into an almost feral-looking half-frown. "I will not tolerate you speaking to my husband this way. Show him the respect he deserves, when you speak to him, or do not speak to him at all."

"F-Flori-chan?!" Floris spoke, exasperated. "First, it was Lessar, now, it's you! Cut it out!"

Kamisato Kakeru cast Floris an awkward look, to which she responded by looking to the floor, awkwardly, as a bright, beet red blush formed on her cheeks. Kakeru sighed, irritated. It was just getting too easy. There used to be some level of challenge in this; he used to actually have to save the girl before she was infected by "Kamisato Disease", and then proceeded to fall stupidly in love with him.

Touma awkwardly patted his wife on the shoulder, and then proceeded to wrap his arms around her waist, as he gently pulled her away from the counter, trying to supress a nervous grin. "M-Misaki… it's cool. Honestly! It's no big deal! I'm not cheesed! Really! You know how Stiyl is… eheheh…"

Accelerator looked to the ground. People were looking. Only passing looks. At the very least, the crowds weren't standing around, staring at them like they were a sideshow attraction. "Fucking fifth ranked… leave the bullying to me, yeah? Since when did you get so fucking tough?"

"How do tickets work here? Do you need tickets for each ride? I guess I'd need four… or, ah, nobody's going to go rooting through Misaki's purse. What are you doing here, though, really, if you don't mind me asking? More importantly, what's the Rookie doing here?" Touma spoke, before he kissed his glaring wife on the cheek, which made her soften up just a little bit. Approaching the booth's bent counter, he leaned in, as Motoharu did the same, on the other side of the plastic.

Motoharu grinned, as he leaned in as closely as he possibly could. "You buy tickets up front; that's it. Good for every attraction in this place. Like I said to your wifey, long story. Our glorious leader Beauty-Senpai, and Archbishop Creampie have my… buddies, and I, on a recon mission. Nothing's "wrong" per say. We're just supposed to keep watch. Grand Kingdom is a high-profile location. Y'know, if some loony bin reject magician tries something stupid, we ought to be here to stop it. By "the Rookie" I assume you mean Kamisato-sensei? Been working with us for a while. Don't know why. Don't care, either, he's pretty useful. Any idea what that right hand of his does? Makes people just… poof. Pretty cool."

"Three adult tickets, pronto," Accelerator demanded. He noticed that he'd caught Stiyl Magnus' eye. Academy City's "top dog" glared daggers at the red-haired magician. Floris began to process the order, and then quickly handed the tickets that were produced off to Misaki, through a small window; Misaki requested a card processing machine, and then proceeded to pay for the tickets with her debit card. Floris took the machine back, when the purchase was confirmed, and after Misaki had retrieved her card; the blue-eyed, blonde-haired young woman then returned her attention to an unenthusiastic-looking Kamisato Kakeru, who she began to pester.

"You don't want to know," Touma muttered. "Lots of fucked up history, there. We're cool now, but, there was a time when we really, really weren't. How did you even meet? How did he and… you know, "Beauty-Senpai" meet? Fuck it, don't answer now, but, someday, you should tell me about it. The Rookie, and me and my wife? We go back, man. Listen, man, whatever you're doing… can you keep me and my family out of it? We're not about that life, anymore. Running around, punching people, you know?"

With an uncharacteristically sympathetic facial expression, Tsuchimikado Motoharu nodded, before his toothy, almost sinister-looking grin returned. "Yeah, Kami-yan, I'll try. With "the Rookie", as you call him, working for us, you're pretty much old news, anyways. Ciao! Oh! By the way, that Estelle girl's out there, somewhere, deep cover. Deeper than ours, anyways. She's in a squirrel mascot suit."

Touma shrugged, as he chuckled awkwardly. "Rosenthal-san, too? You're making too many friends lately, Tsuchimikado," Touma said smugly. Taking his wife's arm in his own, the married couple, with a grumbling Accelerator trekked off into the Grand Kingdom proper.

Touma's eyes widened, once he'd stepped foot into the park, away from the gargantuan gates. The Grand Kingdom truly was grand; nobody could bring the park's owner up on charges of false advertising. Most of the ground beneath the trio's feet was made up of beautifully carved, and delicately polished, bright silver and golden-trimmed bricks. Leading from the entranceway, and to a small plaza, was a wide walkway, which was flanked on either side by waist-high golden fences. The walkway was made up of dark red, almost brown bricks, and bricks of a light brown coloration.

Directly to the trio's right, the walkway splintered off, and, the splinter lead towards was a large, fancy-looking gift shop. It looked futuristic, even by Academy City's standards. The structure's exterior was designed with sleekness in mind; its surfaces appeared to be made up of translucent glass, though, said glass was darker than most. The structure was slanted, slightly, to the right, and appeared to be held in place by a tall, glass pillar, which supported part of the structure's roof. The many doors of the gift shop were swinging open, as patrons left, and closing, as others entered. Atop the structure's roof, there was a bright, flashing neon sign, which read, "Royal Riches".

"Riches, for the people who fucking run this place," Accelerator remarked, apparently having seen the same sign that Touma had.

"Come on, Accel, man. They've got to stay in business somehow, right? I mean, the tickets we got are good for every ride; I could understand if you had to buy tickets for each ride, but, this actually seems really fair," Touma pointed out. "How much did it come to, out of curiosity?"

"I have to say, I agree with Touma; it was quite the deal. To answer your question, my prince, the total came out to ¥6001.33," Misaki spoke.

"That actually is really good, for three people," Touma remarked. "I like it. I'd prefer to get in for free, but, what do you want, right? Gotta help the gears of commerce grind."

"Of course you fucking do, fifth ranked," Accelerator teased, as began to spare the rest of his surroundings a glance. Misaki, with her arm around her husband's own, raised her available right arm, and made her signature, cutesy pose. To the trio's left, the walkway splintered again, and led towards another facility.

The facility was less futuristic-looking than its sister location, the gift shop; it was a structure that was built using a mix of metallic beams, and light brown bricks. It wasn't slanted, like the gift shop, and on either side of the structure, there was a smaller, rectangular structure, both of which were directly attached to the larger building in the center. Its brick surfaces were periodically disturbed by long window panes, which offered the trio a glimpse into the building's interior. The building was surrounded by planter boxes, which contained tall, exotic-looking flowers. The flowers had petals of many different colors; light blues, yellows, reds, oranges, even purples.

Above the facility's six tall, glass doors, there was a series of signs, which depicted four large, square icons; a featureless human being, standing tall and at attention, a featureless human being, whose torso resembled an upside-down triangle, and another featureless human being, who sat in the featureless silhouette of a wheelchair. The final icon depicted a featureless human being, who was presumably female, as their hair appeared to be tied back into a ponytail, who had a much smaller, featureless human being in their arms, the smaller human being's circular, faceless head raised to their breast.

Kamijou Misaki, who had cast her gaze in the direction of the facility that Accelerator looked upon, turned away, and looked down at her own bosom, as her lips curled into a small, but noticeable frown. Kamijou Touma was far from oblivious. Both he and Accelerator had "caught" Misaki in the act. Accelerator shifted his crimson eyes in Touma's direction; by the time he did so, Touma had already closed the distance between himself and his wife. Accelerator stepped towards the golden fence, in order to give passersby the space they needed, as the Kamijous did the same.

"Misaki. Beautiful. I think, at least, I think that I think… okay, hold it, tongue's getting twisted," Touma mumbled, as Misaki smirked. She gripped her husband's hands in her own. Kamijou Touma took a deep breath, and looked into his wife's starry eyes.

"What I was trying to say was, I think I know what you're thinking. Why lie to ourselves about it? There's something we want, more accurately I guess, someone we want." Touma looked down to his right hand. Clenching it into a fist, Kamijou Touma sighed, before he kissed Kamijou Misaki on the forehead, and then, gently, and quickly on the lips. "I also know, that you know, that Imagine Breaker is… a problem."

"Hello! This is relevant to my interests," Othinus squeaked, as she popped out from Misaki's purse. Passersby smiled at her, and small children pointed, or waved happily at her. Bracing herself, the tiny, former Magic God took a long, deep inhalation of oxygen into her lungs, and then slowly expelled the carbon dioxide that her small body produced.

"This place is… very large. Larger than most things. Actually… eheheheheheh… it's actually kind of terrifying," Othinus spoke; she contemplated slinking back into the safety of her co-guardian's purse; but she didn't. The former Magic God's facial expression turned to one of determination. "But! I won't let this stop me! Let's talk business, Touma, Misaki."

"Oi, fifth ranked, hero, one-eyed brat," Accelerator spoke. "There's a bench over towards the fucking rip-off shop. I'm going to go take a piss. Get your asses out of the way if you're going to have a heart-to-heart."

As Accelerator swiftly proceeded in the direction of the restroom facility, the Kamijous turned their sight to the one of the many benches that sat in a circular fashion, next to the gift shop; apparently, they'd failed to see it beforehand. The gift shop, in fact, upon closer inspection, appeared to have more than just benches in this area next to it. There were more planter boxes, and large, humble old oaks, whose bright green leaves hung casually from their branches, swaying in the breeze.

"Accel-chan…" Touma muttered under his breath.

"W-we have never really talked about it at… at length before. If you are comfortable with the idea of doing so, my love, I am, as well. Othinus, you sound like you would like to be a part of the conversation as well?" Misaki spoke, as the trio began to make they way off the walkway, and towards the gift shop. Instead of sitting at the benches, they simply placed themselves near the glass pillar, which appeared to hold the shop upright.

"I would," Othinus admitted. The former Magic God turned her attention from Misaki, and to Touma. "I don't believe that it would be wise for you and Mental Out to procreate, so long as you posses the "Imagine Breaker". I don't think anyone knows what would happen, if you were to do so; I certainly don't, and, I've lived much longer than any of you have. If I, "One-Eyed Othinus" don't know about it, nobody does."

"I do not know if I should even ask," Misaki began, with a quick, deep inhalation, "but, apparently, I am." Leaning down, towards her purse, Misaki whispered in Othinus' direction, "what would happen, if Touma and I were to… conceive a… c-child? To become… parents? What would Imagine Breaker do, in a hypothetical situation? What would your best guess be, Othinus?"

Othinus shrugged weakly, as Misaki's starry eyes looked into Othinus' own moist green eye. "Your best guess is as good as mine, Kamijou Misaki. "Imagine Breaker" has had many hosts, and appears to change hosts, based on some sort of preference. I've caught wind of rumors, in the far, far past, that "Imagine Breaker" even manifested as objects, or even, on rarer occasions, locations. There would be a chance that "Imagine Breaker" wouldn't change hosts at all, or, perhaps, it would change hosts once your offspring matured, and developed a personality, morals, and values. There is also a chance that "Imagine Breaker" would immediately pursue the next generation of its previous host's family, in order to ensure that it continued to have a host. Many chances, many theories, and seemingly no truths."

"Index really doesn't know anything about Touma's… I would go as far as to call it a curse, either," Misaki practically snapped. She quickly realized that she could potentially grow quite savage, if she didn't reign her emotions in. Too much dangled at the edge. "Imagine Breaker is a sickening debilitation."

Touma took Misaki's hands into his own, and, as she looked up at her husband, Touma smiled warmly down at her. Rising up, Kamijou Misaki's starry eyes looked down at Touma's hands. "I have an idea of my own, actually. It probably won't work, I really, really doubt that it would work, but… it's worth a shot, I think.

"I'll tell you more, and, if you guys, all of you, are feeling up to it, we'll try it out when we get home. How does that sound? There's a lot that I think we need to talk about. I think we've been turning our eyes away from the truth, and from the challenges we face as a family. I mean, even last week, the topic came up, and we just sort of… brushed over it. I don't think we should do that anymore. What do you think? I'd like to hear your thoughts, Misaki. There's no single decision I want to make without your input. For now? I think we should just let loose and have a little bit of fun. During the week, we're both so busy… let's just laugh, and love, huh, beautiful?"

Misaki nearly found herself in tears. Kamijou Touma, her husband, was without flaw. He was literally perfect. He was Mr. Spectacular, the hypothetical partner so many others wished they had, but lacked; and the best part was that he belonged to her, and to her alone. "T-Touma… I agree. There is so much we, as a family, as one, have to talk about. Maybe we have been looking away from the truth for too long. I think these ideas, your ideas, as always, are all wonderful ideas. Especially, your idea about… just having fun. I like that idea a lot, my prince. Let us just… have fun. If it is meant to be, I suppose it will be, will it not? As we always have, we will find a way."

Othinus raised one of her tiny arms up, and placed the side of her outstretched palm to her forehead, in an honorable salute. "I won't stop until the Mental Out's belly has become a great, life-bearing bulb. Mark my words, humans… family… I will find a way. Even if I must work with… them, to do so. Even if I must turn to my oldest once-enemy, I will do so."

"Them…?" Misaki began to ask, before she figured out what the tiny former Magic God was speaking of. Othinus was speaking of GREMLIN. Or, at least, the terrorist organization's former members. She had an idea as to who Othinus' "oldest once-enemy" was, as well.

Gently breaking away from his wife, Touma rubbed the top of Othinus' head with the index finger of his left hand. Othinus' left eye closed, as she squeaked softly in pleasure. "We'll get it all figured out, Othi-chan. You, me, Ojou-Sama here, and Index… we'll get it going together, like we always have."

Rising up on her toes, Misaki gave her husband a soft, swift kiss on the lips; a group of passing girls, one of whom was yelling "go, uncle Touma! Go!" swooned, as they entered the gift shop. Falling back to a normal, flat-footed position, Misaki took her beloved's arm in hers, and motioned towards the restroom facility. "Shall we meet Accelerator, my prince?"

With a grin, Touma nodded, as the trio began to make their way towards the facility across from the gift shop; the sun almost felt brighter, as they left the shelter provided by the gift shop's slanted roof. Misaki closed her eyes, trusting her husband to act as her vision, the young woman breathed deeply, and drank of the newfound positivity in the air. It was almost magical just how quickly Kamijou Touma could turn Kamijou Misaki's mood from a dark one, to a bright one.

Accelerator hadn't technically been lying, when he said that he was going to use the restroom. He'd done his business, he'd cleaned up after himself, and his genitalia had been safely tucked away. Still, he sat on the toilet, his pants pulled up, looking down at his smartphone, which sat in the palms of his clasped hands. The device was unlocked, and, on its tempered glass touch screen, a series of messages were displayed. These messages weren't important to Accelerator; they were in regards to previous correspondences. It was the newest message that he'd sent that was of importance to Accelerator.

"Estelle. Hey. Miss you. Don't think that I'm contacting you just because I need something. That's not it. This isn't for me, anyway. It's for some friends of mine. Listen. Your rituals, your magic, that Idol shit, it's based on stories, is it not? You know, symbolism and all that? You know any stories about something being… removed, from something else? Something being taken out and placed somewhere, or sealed?"

His message had sat there, on his phone screen, for a while. He read it, over and over again, scrutinizing it, his crimson eyes scanning over each word repeatedly. Had he said the right thing? Had he somehow managed to anger the necromancer? Accelerator didn't know. His phone vibrated, and Accelerator's heart jumped into his throat.

"Sensei! I would never. I know youre busy. Lets see. Depends on where you go. Bible has lots of stories about demons being exorcised, almost always by a holy man (and always a man). Not a lot of women doing things in that book from what i remember but dont quote me on it. If you treated whatever it is youre trying to kick out as a demon a magician might be able to cook up a ritual 4 you. dont try it yourself though."

Accelerator chuckled, as he quickly began to form a reply.

"Yeah. That works. It's something to consider, at least. Cheers, Estelle."

Pocketing his phone, Accelerator stepped out of the stall. The male restroom didn't seem to be particularly busy; he assumed that the Grand Kingdom had many restroom facilities scattered throughout it. There were a few other men, young and old, who were either relieving themselves, or washing their hands, having recently relieved themselves, or so Accelerator guessed. Taking notes from his fellow restroom-goers, Accelerator pressed the index finger of his right hand against the hand sanitizer dispenser's trigger, that was closest to him. The clear, germ-destroying jelly didn't slip out immediately. As Accelerator held a hand open, he produced a frustrated sigh. It was going to take its sweet time.

Finally, after what felt like hours of waiting, the dispenser broke down, and, at long last, produced a wave of hand sanitizer; what looked like two years worth of germ-destroying jelly made a glopping noise as it flowed endlessly into the palm of Accelerator's open hand; endlessly, at least, until Accelerator removed his finger from the dispenser's trigger.

Academy City's "top dog" walked with casualness in his step; he looked like he didn't have a care in the world. Even as another man, who'd turned the corner, entering the restroom, stopped, stammering, as he began to back away at the sight of him wasn't enough to bother Accelerator. Pushing his way through the restroom's door, he stepped out from the restroom, and into the "meeting point" of the facility. From here, restrooms for both males and females, rows of doors, some of which were open, which lead into singular, individual use restrooms, and a private room in which mothers could provide their children with the nutrients their bodies produced could be accessed.

This "meeting point" was quite luxurious, when it really had no need to be. There was a small café, from which snacks, drinks, and other odds and ends could be purchased – as Accelerator focused his vision on the café's prices, he scoffed – almost ¥640.14 for a bottle of water. He knew espers, and even magicians who could produce their own for free. At the café's front counter, a few stools stood, while, off to the side, near a small, upright chalkboard that advertised the café's "special" of the day, there were three small tables, with four comfortable-looking chairs to each.

Between the café, and the front of the "meeting point" there were a number of luxurious-looking, large leather seats – eight, exactly, all of which had a singular, round, light brown coffee table in front of them. A few feet away from the collection of seats was large, bright blue box, which had two round holes on its surface – above one hole, a small, white recycling icon was printed on, while, above the other, there was a pure white image of what looked like a human hand tossing away a white circle. These were made irrelevant, when Accelerator noticed the janitorial robots that patrolled the "meeting point".

At the front of the "meeting point", in front of either of the walls to the east, there was a long, wide, metallic counter, either of which were flanked by a row of evenly spaced stools. On one of these stools, a certain married couple sat. Accelerator shook his head, as he smirked. Kamijou Misaki had set herself in her husband's lap, and was clearly enjoying herself, as she gently, and almost unnoticeably grinded her posterior against her other half's crotch. Touma certainly wasn't shying away from the attention; his hands were placed firmly on either of his wife's hips. Their discreet ritual wasn't unnoticeable enough to get past the all-seeing, crimson eyes of Academy City's "top dog".

"Get a room, you fucking nymphomaniacs," Accelerator teased, as he plopped himself down on the stool next to the Kamijous. Set next to the married couple, on the counter, was Misaki's purse, on which Othinus sat. The tiny, former Magic God's legs dangled over the accessory's edge, and she kicked them back and forth, casually. Othinus waved politely to Accelerator, who merely clicked his tongue in response. "Oi, one-eyed brat."

"Bout time, old-ass lady," Touma remarked, as he placed his hands higher up on his wife's sides, and began to tickle her. Misaki jolted up, as she giggled loudly, gently slapping at her husband's hands, in an attempt to save herself.

Accelerator lightly punched Touma on the shoulder – even if Accelerator had wound up the strongest punch he could've possibly managed, it likely wouldn't have done much to the gentle giant sitting next to him. "So, hero, fifth ranked, one-eyed brat, I guess, too, where are we going first? Personally, I want to see what all the fucking hubbub is about this Citadel thing."

"In the center of the plaza, there's a big map… sign… thing, that lays everything out pretty good. We could check it out?" Touma suggested. "How's that sound to you, Ojou-Sama?"

"You are VERY fond of calling me that…" Misaki remarked, as she turned herself around, and placed her nose gently against her husband's own. "I do not want that desire to flee from you. Keep it. I want you to call me "Ojou-Sama", or, more specifically, "my Ojou-Sama", when we…"

Misaki began to blush, as she pulled away, and stood up, tall, and straight. She softly cleared her throat, as she faced her grinning, chuckling husband, and then looked to Accelerator, who'd rested his head in his right hand's palm. "Y-yes… let us go, t-then… I seem to be fond of l-losing myself, today…" Misaki awkwardly muttered.

Picking up her purse, as Othinus happily leapt back inside, meeting the beautiful, soft interior head-on, like she was in love with it, Kamijou Misaki returned her arm to her husband's. As the married couple began to make their way out of the restroom facility, Accelerator trailed a few feet behind.

"Are you sure you want a brat? You won't be able to fuck twenty-four seven anymore. Can you nymphomaniacs handle that?... I'll probably get fucking stuck with their brat when they want to fuck… not that I'd mind. Heh. "Uncle Accelerator". Never would've fucking thought."

Kamisato Kakeru passed a card processing machine through his small, circular window, as he produced an exasperated sigh. This really wasn't getting any easier. More than once, this woman, this "Floris", had "accidentally" brushed her hand over his, during their clumsy interactions with the technology around them, namely, computer keyboards, mice, and card processing machines, and the walkie talkies that were set on the counter that Kakeru and his three compatriots shared.

"Eheheh… sorry…" Floris spoke, softly, a bright pink blush visible on her cheeks. Kamisato Kakeru shook his head at the sight. Floris was attractive, Kakeru could tell that much, and it was something that he had to admit to himself. Her body was something that he could see many a man lusting after. Even in her uniform, Kakeru could tell that this Floris girl was incredibly curvy.

If any woman could claim to have an 'hourglass shape', it was Floris. Her waist looked like it was made by a master craftsman, for the specific purpose of being held; Kakeru could almost see her being the Beauty Queen in a nightclub, conquering the floor with her presence. If anything, his assumption wasn't too far off. Kakeru allowed himself to indulge in her form – even if this woman noticed, given her behavior, she likely wouldn't mind, at least, if it was Kakeru who was doing the looking. His eyes dropped to her posterior, for the first time, in fact.

They widened. Kamisato Kakeru's pupils shrank, as his eyelids parted. If he was the type to become flustered, and break out into a blush, he would've done so. Her uniform's black, silky pants were tight – extremely tight. Her posterior was not only highlighted, but accented by them. It was a grand, glorious, beautiful bump. It looked firm, and plump. Squeezable. Kissable. Fuckable.

"She's got the booty. I repeat, this "Floris" has the booty. This may well just be worth pursuing. What can you do, "Floris"? How much pleasure can you take?"

This young woman's bosom was nothing to scoff at, either. It was round, her breasts perfectly symmetrical, and, even in her uniform's shirt, it protruded considerably. Two round, smaller protrusions could be seen poking the inside of her shirt, and surfacing on its outside.

Kakeru's eyes met Floris' own. She'd stopped functioning completely. As if "Kamisato Disease" was laying siege to her body's nervous system, the young woman's face was beet red; she almost looked like she was fevered. Tsuchimikado Motoharu was laughing hysterically, as he handed tickets to a family on the other side of the booth. Stiyl Magnus rubbed his temples with his index fingers, as he muttered incoherently to himself. His facial expression was one of aggravation. Noticeable creases had formed on his brow, and his lips were curled into a disapproving, frustrated frown. Kamisato Kakeru couldn't care less.

Motoharu, still laughing, pushed himself towards Kamisato Kakeru, who he put his arm around. Kakeru's eyes shifted in his head, as they looked towards Tsuchimikado Motoharu's form.

"You… hahaha! You noticed, huh, buddy?" Motoharu loudly hissed, in a failed attempt at a whisper. "Yeah, I noticed too, way before you did. She's got the booty! SHE'S GOT THE BOOTY! When you're… ha! When you've got one of Floris-san's legs in the air, cock stuffed deep inside her, cum in her for me, yeah? Do a favor for your old pal Tsuchimikado? While you're at it, film it! A buddy of mine would really appreciate the favor!"

"Why would I do that?" Kakeru inquired. "I don't want children. As for potential pornography, I'd only do so if the other, hypothetical party involved consented."

Motoharu only began to laugh harder, as he began to awkwardly stumble away. "You're a real card! You're acting like plan B isn't a viable option; and consent! What's consent?! Oh, the beautiful friendship we are forging! It warms my heart!"

Floris' fist warmed the side of Tsuchimikado Motoharu's face, sending him flying. The Necessarius agent's body struck the adjacent wall, with considerable force, enough to give him quite the shake. Motoharu hit the ground with a thud, and a pained groan.

"Sick, deluded pervert!" Floris angrily exclaimed, as she moved in for a second assault.

"If anyone's the pervert here," Motoharu began, as he slowly rose up to his feet, "it's you. You're totally coming onto Kamisato-chan, here. If you didn't want to have your plumbing done, you wouldn't be following our esteemed partner around like a lost puppy, blushing. Now that I mention it… did you save her, or something? Isn't that how this sort of thing works? You save a girl, and then she wants to munch on your nuts?"

"Floris-san" seems to be more than capable of protecting herself," Kakeru remarked. "No. I wonder, though. Are YOU, in some way, attempting to live vicariously through these escapades? Perhaps, you're feeling… conflicted." Kamisato Kakeru's lips curled into a small, but sinister-looking smirk, as he raised his right hand, and pointed it in the direction of Tsuchimikado Motoharu. Stiyl fulfilled another patron's order, before he moved to open his mouth. He was interrupted, however, when Kamisato Kakeru spoke.

"I wonder… Tsuchimikado-san… do you wish for a new world?"

"Back off, freako!" Motoharu cried as he scurried away, in feigned terror. He knew well enough that he could easily deliver quite the beat down onto the likes of "Kamisato Kakeru". "There are appearances to keep up… let him think I'm scared of his hand."

"Fools! Attentions on the crowd. Now," Stiyl Magnus commanded. He'd set his palms down on the counter, and leaned forward. The red-haired young man's eyelids narrowed, as he scoped out the individual who'd caught his attention.

"Who, exactly, are you calling a fool?" Floris demanded. "I'll have you know I…"

"Yes, yes, Curtana this, Curtana that. New Light this, New Light that. "British Halloween, British Halloween". We've heard this same mock-rhetoric a thousand times over," Stiyl grumbled. "Those accomplishments mean nothing. New Light is Necessarius, now, as are you. Instead of gloating of past successes, struggling to relive your old glory days, perhaps, you could focus on the present. Perhaps, then you'd get something done."

Floris was more stunned than she was angry, at first; but as the shock faded, the former New Light operative slowly began to boil over.

"Good job, Barcode Boy," Motoharu scolded. "Now you've got her being all pissy again. Stick a tampon in it, would you? Something wrong with all of you New Light cunts."

Kamisato Kakeru had to take over, and become the mediator in this situation. He held no love for these Magic Side maggots, but, for his own convenience, infighting couldn't be allowed.

"Floris-san, I'm quite sure that Magnus-san doesn't mean his words; besides, Magnus-san has his own secrets, his own shortcomings… his own inner conflicts. We all do. Some of us, though… some of us are more conflicted than others. Hush, now. I've spotted the odd-looking individual, too."

Pointing outwards, Floris' attention turned towards his finger, and, subsequently, to the "odd-looking individual". As Floris' big, blue eyes landed on the "individual", she nearly burst out laughing, despite the rage she still held in her heart towards Stiyl Magnus, and towards Tsuchimikado Motoharu. This sight was enough to make her cast her anger aside. Kakeru smirked, thinly, as he began to process the purchase of another family, who sought an entrance to the Grand Kingdom.

Approximately ten feet from the quartet's booth, amongst the line's crowds, he stuck out like a sore thumb. He was rather short, despite his monstrous appearance – he couldn't have been any taller than five foot eight.

His long, shoulder-length hair looked to have been dyed pitch black; it was far too black to possibly be natural, and, atop his head, he wore a pointy, black, wide-brimmed witch's hat. His face was painted white, and, around either of his dark brown eyes, jet black, fiery orbs were painted. His lips were painted black, and, they were 'extended' into a perpetual, unnatural-looking frown. Around his neck, a black cape was tied, the end of which fell to his tailbone. The person, or, thing, nobody in the booth could be certain, wore a long sleeved, skin tight black pullover sweater, and equally tight, jet black, torn jeans. The black combat boots the person wore likely gave him a few extra inches of height; Floris in particular found herself wondering just how short the person would be without them.

"I'm not helping this weird motherfucker," Motoharu stated, as he stepped away from his computer, and the small machine that was placed next to it, which printed tickets for those who didn't already have virtual tickets. "No way. This guy looks like he just wandered out of a circus. What's with the hat? Is he a stage magician? What kind of magic would he even use? "Fucking lunatic voodoo magic?"

Stiyl offered his fellow Necessarius operative an indifferent shrug. "I will do what you are too incompetent to do, as I always have… I will…"

"Hallo. Kan jeg få en billett, kan du?"

Stiyl raised an eyebrow. The hat-wearing, caped man, or person, whatever he was, or they were, stood mere inches from him. Though he, or it, had to look up, Stiyl still felt as if he was about to be sacrificed to some sort of dark god.

"Say what, now?" Kamisato Kakeru spoke, as he moved towards Stiyl; his arm accidentally brushed against Floris' back, causing her to shiver, and produce a small, barely-audible squeak of awkwardness, as her face erupted into a blush, one which Kakeru wasn't paying any attention to.

"Du føler ham? La det skje," the man, or person, spoke. His voice was deep, almost unnaturally so. Only the Necessarius magicians had heard such a deep voice before, and that belonged to William Orwell, someone who could easily best this painted man-beast.

"I assume he just wants one ticket? Doesn't seem to have anybody with him, big surprise there, I know," Motoharu commented; Stiyl was already on it. Printing out a ticket, Stiyl Magnus pushed it through his circular window, and handed it to the painted, hat-wearing man. With a nod, and a grunt, he walked into the park without paying.

"Woah, hold it! Hold up! You didn't pay! Stop right there! Come on now, stop!" Floris proclaimed, as she waved frantically at the swift, hat and cape-wearing creature.

"Fuck it, let it go; do you really want to fuck with a guy like this?" Motoharu pried. He folded his arms, and tossed his head in the brigand's direction. Stiyl sighed, as he rubbed his temples with his index fingers. Kamisato Kakeru paid Floris' posterior another glance; at least, with this newfound treasure trove, his temporary position would be a bit more enjoyable.

"Let it go?" Stiyl pried. "Our purpose here was to keep watch for nefarious-looking individuals. That was nefarious enough. Someone will have to trail him."

Kamisato Kakeru raised his right hand, and offered a nonchalant shrug. "Be my guest, "Kamisato", if that is even your real name. Prove your loyalty, then," Stiyl grumbled.

"I-I'm going, too! K-Kamisato-san might need help!" Floris excitedly proclaimed, as she quickly took to Kakeru's side. As Kamisato Kakeru pushed the large, metallic door that lead from the metallic greeting booth to the outside world, holding it open for a blushing Floris, Kakeru couldn't help but muse. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Motoharu leaning towards the red-haired young man, likely whispering something to him. He didn't let this sight interrupt his internalizations.

"Perhaps, I can even gain something from this. A man has needs, after all. Why not switch things up? Faction-worthy…? We'll have to see, Floris-san. We'll just have to see. I can make a woman out of you. I just have "this feeling" of my own. What can you do? I want to see what you can do."


	12. Towards the Butchery

What had Kamisato Kakeru done wrong? What had he done to serve this fate? He wasn't sure. Kakeru wasn't sure that he could answer any question that he had, in regards to his own fate, or fates, at this point. Clinging to his arm, blushing like a flustered schoolgirl, as she nuzzled him with the side of her face, practically purring as she did so, was Floris. With a sigh, he cast his vision from side to side; how hard could it be to find a weird looking, long-haired, painted man in a wizard's hat, or as it a witch's? and a cape? He spotted the Kamijous, and the Accelerator near the park's monumentally tall map sign, which stood about ten meters from the restroom facility, and the gift shop.

He couldn't help but smirk, even as Floris showed her awkward affection for him; as always, the Imagine Breaker, and Mental Out held hands, their fingers interlocked. They were so happy, their marriage one of harmony and mutual respect; it was something Kakeru had never seen before, and he'd only seen it since between two people who were, ironically, friends of the Kamijous'.

For a moment, Kakeru spared himself the chance to think about what it'd be like to be a married man. It must've been a huge responsibility. Kakeru took care of his girls, as they were all his partners, sure, but that was different. He wasn't married to them. He wasn't completely devoted to them, the way the Imagine Breaker was completely devoted to Mental Out. Kakeru figured that, somehow a relationship and a marriage were two very different things.

"D-do you see him, Kamisato-san?" Floris inquired, as she joined the object of her affection in searching.

"Hm?" Kakeru inquired. Clearing his throat, softly, he emerged from his musings. "No. No sight of him. Maybe, one of us should contact Rosenthal-san…"

"No!" Floris exclaimed, almost as if she was in a panic, her blue eyes wide, as she began to walk Kakeru away from the Grand Kingdom's entrance, and towards the Kingdom's map sign. "I mean… eheheh… we don't need to bother Rosenthal-san! W-we'll do it ourselves! Rosenthal-san's very busy, I'm SURE!"

"As am I…" Kakeru spoke, unenthusiastically, as he stumbled. Floris was a physically powerful woman, to be certain. Though he wasn't anywhere near as burly as the Imagine Breaker, Kakeru wasn't a man who could be easily shoved around, and, yet, Floris was doing so without issue.

Kakeru seriously considered asking her if she wanted to get the awkwardness out of the way, and clear the sexual tension that hung in the air, like a dark thundercloud – Kakeru wasn't a man who waited until the fourth date. The only thing that halted his progress, was the prospect of losing access to Floris' posterior. If he was to bury his manhood between her cheeks, he'd need to play his cards right. Infatuated or not, Floris was clearly a prideful woman. Kakeru figured that she wouldn't stand for being used like an object, or eyed like a cut of meat.

"There he is! C-come on, K-Kamisato-san! We've got to get him, before he gets away!" Floris suddenly proclaimed, pointing past the Kamijous, and the Accelerator – the hat-wearing man was walking over a large, wooden bridge, that was a fair ways passed the map sign, flanked by two large totem polls. He wasn't succeeding at being inconspicuous; the crowds of people around him were clearly disturbed by his presence, and were systematically moving themselves away from him.

"You realize he could just be a foreigner, yes? Perhaps he doesn't know the language. He was speaking in an odd tongue; one I haven't heard before. Perhaps he's here, visiting relatives. We don't know the circumstances of his presence," Kakeru explained. "His only crime thus far is not paying for a ticket. Perhaps, in his home country, one isn't expected to pay for such things."

Floris shook her head, as she began to drag Kakeru along behind her, once again; passing by the Kamijous, who appeared to be debating on where in the Grand Kingdom they'd go next, Touma offered Floris and Kakeru a wave, while Misaki smiled in their direction.

Even Floris, who already found herself smitten, and never really liked Kamijou Touma all that much to begin with, had to admit that he was an absolute hunk of a man; he'd bloomed tremendously well. Touma was enormous, almost absurdly so. He was practically a giant, with the incredible muscle mass to make him look like more of a man-beast than a lanky human sunflower.

When Floris had first met Touma, and, through him, his buxom girlfriend Shokuhou Misaki, as she'd been known at that point in time, he was a scrawny boy. He had been almost lanky, but held himself with a confidence that Floris couldn't deny then, and she couldn't deny it in the present. Floris shuddered, as the idea of being punched by the fists that were connected to Touma's enormous, vein-covered arms formed in her mind, no matter how much she tried to push it away. If she hadn't seen him lifting before, Floris could've safely assumed that he was on some sort of muscle enhancer.

Floris' eyes drifted to Kamijou Misaki; she was beautiful, resembling some sort of immortal goddess, more than a living, mortal human being. Her beautiful, honey-colored hair glowed beneath the sun's rays, as if the massive ball of hydrogen wanted to highlight her beauty for all to see.

Even in an outfit that wasn't designed to highlight her body, Kamijou Misaki's body was highlighted nonetheless. Her bosom was enormous, far larger than Floris' own, much to her chagrin. Floris could see, even through Misaki's tank top, incredibly developed back muscles; it almost looked like Kamijou Misaki's body had adapted to having to carry her bosom's monumental weight.

Floris found herself awkwardly shuddering again, as she examined Misaki's arms; they were thick, and extremely well-muscled, but still distinctively feminine. A punch delivered by Kamijou Misaki would likely hurt just as much as a punch delivered by Kamijou Touma.

Floris felt like she could never compare – Floris knew she was beautiful in her own way, but, Kamijou Misaki held herself with confidence and pride, completely at peace with herself. She hadn't dressed to impress anyone; Floris could see, around herself, the man she'd found herself hopelessly infatuated with, the Kamijous, and the Accelerator, that there were many younger, and even older-looking women who'd dressed themselves in their finest dresses, or, alternatively, their best, most perfect outfits – high-waisted jeans, crop tops, tight-fitting, short and long sleeved shirts, flats, canvas shoes, gladiator sandals, fashionable leather boots.

Kamijou Misaki hadn't worn anything of the sort, and, she didn't look like she needed to. Misaki was dressed for comfort; her outfit oozed practicality. Floris herself had to subconsciously admit that, oftentimes, practicality and attractiveness didn't walk hand in hand; it would usually be one or the other. Somehow, Kamijou Misaki could pull off both, at the same time. Floris would be lying, if she didn't admit that she was just a bit envious.

Snapping back from her own musings, Floris found that her hand had been taken into Kamisato Kakeru's own left hand, and, as she'd been doing for him before, he was effectively walking her. Her face erupted into an enormous, bright pink blush, as her bright, blue eyes began to fill with tears. What was she going to do? Her hand was in his, just like how Kamijou Misaki's hand was in Kamijou Touma's. Would she retrieve her hand, and back away, or, would she allow this continue, no matter how oddly uncomfortable, and yet, so comfortable it made her feel?

"Get ready. There he is. Looking down," Kamisato Kakeru spoke, as he released Floris' hand from his own. A part of Floris screamed in relief, while another part felt just a bit downtrodden. "Any ideas? We'll need to breach the language barrier."

"U-uh…"

"Not the time," Kakeru snapped. "Concentrate, Floris-san. We can talk about mating rituals at another date."

"M-MATING R-R-RITUALS?!" Floris nearly screamed. She and Kakeru got more than one odd look; Floris nearly felt herself on the verge of passing out. What was wrong with her?! She'd never been afflicted with anything like this before. This felt worse than even the most terrible of stomach bugs.

"Hush, now, you're making a scene," Kakeru softly scolded. Even the hat-wearing man, who was gazing down at something below the bridge, had turned to look at the two. He didn't seem to be perturbed, as he turned his head back to continue to look down.

"Eheheh… t-translation app? I have one on my p-phone," Floris suggested, as she produced the device from the pocket of her uniform's pants. "If someone talks into it, the app w-will… u-uh… translate the text to the l-language of your choice!"

"It'll do," Kakeru spoke. "Might I see that, please? Let's talk with our friend, Odin, here."

"Odin?" Floris swiftly inquired, as she handed her phone, unquestioningly, to Kakeru, who gently, and cautiously took it from her. That was certainly an interesting reference. Floris knew just a little bit too much about Odin. How much did Kamisato know? Floris felt her mind snapping back to normality, the broken pieces being fitted back into place.

"Surely, someone from the "Other Side" knows more about old world myths than I do," Kakeru spoke, as he and Floris began to approach the painted man. "Odin, according to Norse Mythology, wore a pointed hat, and a cloak. Future depictions, of course, made him out to be much more of a heavily-armored, hammer-swinging meathead-god of unbridled fury and many warpaths. In reality, the original myths depicted Odin as an old man, rather than a muscular giant."

"H-he's so smart… talk to me about Norse mythology while I fuck your brains out. W-wait, what?!"

Unlocking the device, and swiping upwards, as the phone's tempered glass display commanded, Kakeru pointed Floris's phone towards the pointed hat man, after he browsed through Floris's phones apps, eventually finding an app called "Qoozle Translate"; Qoozle Corp. truly had thought of everything, hadn't they? Curiosity gripped Floris, and she looked down, below the bridge, where the pointed hat man was looking.

She felt bad. Floris really felt bad. All there was beneath the bridge was a small stream, where a number of ducks, males, females, and even a few adorable, fluffy ducklings were drinking. The pointed hat man had just been observing the ducks.

"Hallo. Hva gjør du her?"

"Qoozle Translate" processed the words spoken by the pointed hat man, and spat out a vague, broken, but understandable audio translation for Kakeru.

"Hello. What are you doing here?" The mechanical voice produced by Floris's phone spoke.

Kakeru nodded; it was working. Perhaps, this situation wouldn't spiral out of control; the Bearer of the World Rejector certainly hoped so.

"Ah, you see, sir… you forgot to pay, at the front gates, for your ticket. A single, adult ticket costs. ¥1967.47."

"Qoozle Translate" processed Kakeru's words, and, produced a translation in Norwegian; Kakeru raised an eyebrow. He'd never met anyone from Norway before. Kakeru pressed the icon that resembled a pair of lips, next to the textbox that had appeared at the bottom of Floris's phone's screen.

"Ah, ser du, sir ...du glemte å betale, på foran portene, for billetten. En enkelt, voksen billett koster. ¥1967.47," Floris's phone spoke. The pointed hat man raised an eyebrow, and shook his head, no.

"Hey, man. Fuck off, yeah? I speak Japanese. I've done a butt-ton of shows in Academy City. I was just fucking with you. When you're true kvlt, you don't pay for tickets."

"True… kvlt?" Floris inquired, confused, as she raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, kvlt. Never heard of kvlt? Listen, this meeting never happened, and I'll buy both of you a round. Whatever you want. I just need a drink, man. Last show was a fucking killer."

This time, it was Kamisato Kakeru's turn to pose an inquiry. "Show?"

"Yeah. Frontman. For Vurthum. You know? Black metal? Kvlt? Fuck, just walk with me, yeah? Let's talk. You guys look like you're on break, anyways. C'mon."

Kamisato Kakeru looked to Floris, who looked to him. She wasn't blushing, and there was seriousness in her facial expression; gone, was the flustered little girl. Here, was serious, sensible leader, no nonsense Floris.

"Need I remind you that public intoxication is a crime? Not to mention, this is a family-oriented venue," Floris stated.

Kamisato Kakeru approached the pointed hat man, and put his right arm around the smaller man's shoulders; Floris saw the tips of Kakeru's fingers nearly brush over the pointed hat man's shoulders. Nothing happened, and Kakeru shook his head, as if to say, "not yet". Floris raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement.

"Done deal," Kakeru stated. "Come on, "babe". Let's get a drink. Work's for squares, right? We're only here for the money, anyways. Rebellious punk culture is great, "babe"."

"Babe?" Floris inquired; she could feel a blush coming on, but, sensible, leader Floris beat it back. There was a time and place for everything.

Kakeru broke away from the pointed hat man, and stepped back, towards Floris, who he fell into step with.

"Where's the food and drinks, huh? This place does serve alcohol, yeah?" The pointed hat man inquired; his docile behavior had vanished, as he shouldered his way past a man, whose hands were wrapped around the hand grips of a baby carriage. "Out of the way, motherfucker! Babies aren't true kvlt!"

"Keep an eye on him," Kakeru whispered into Floris's ear. "I think this is less of a magical, or scientific concern, and more of a social concern. Keep the act up. If this troglodyte thinks we're delinquents, he might just open up to us. As it stands, there's not much we can do about his antics; we don't have proof that he just called that man a "motherfucker", and his shove could easily be explained away as an accident."

Floris nodded. "Yeah. Alright. He said he was the frontman in a band; something called… Vurthum? Maybe this is just his lifestyle. I know people who have pretty terrible lifestyles, and they aren't even in bands."

"Yeah, "my dude", Kakeru began, moving away from Floris. "I "totally" get what you're saying, "man". Just last week, I got "trashed", and "crunk" on some pretty "hard shit". Cheated on "my girl", here; she's cool with it, though. We're in an open relationship. She's also a prostitute."

"Heeyyy, my drummer's married to a prostitute. English, name's… what was it? Marybeth? Kind of a whore… well, literally, she's a whore, but even when she's off duty, she's still a whore; but, maybe he's into getting cucked," the pointed hat man remarked, to which Kakeru looked back to a surprisingly neutral Floris; she seemed to be on board with the plan, and understood what Kakeru was trying to do. She raised her eyebrows, and nodded. Kakeru was silently thankful. Too often, he had to have dealings with the dreaded tsundere.

"I "ain't" no cuck, "myself", Kakeru responded, as he just barely avoided an oncoming group of young people; his right hand brushed against one of the young people, resulting in their immediate vanishing; her compatriots didn't seem to notice. One second, she was present, laughing at something, Floris didn't know what, and, the next second, she was gone; as if a scene in a film had been edited, and the frames she'd been in removed. Kakeru gulped, as Floris tried to forget what'd just seen. The power of the "World Rejector" was still frightening to behold.

"That makes two of us, then, man. Getting cucked isn't kvlt, and if something isn't kvlt, I don't do that shit, you feel?" The pointed hat man spoke, as the trio finally left the bridge, and stepped into what almost looked like the landscape of a forest. Kakeru had to take a deep breath, and allow his vision to take in what he was seeing. It was absolutely beautiful.

Great, towering pines rose up, far beyond Kakeru's own mortal form's height. Kakeru could see a small waterfall, to his east, formed in a very organic-looking mountainside, from which water was pouring into a small stream, that snaked, and coiled throughout the forest's floor. The ground beneath the Bearer of the World Rejector's feet was soft, and moist, though firm enough to give Kakeru the confidence he needed to continue to walk. He could hear songbirds chirping, singing their songs, though he couldn't hear their words. Their melodies were soothing. Despite himself, he was still shaken up, from the accidental "World Rejecting" that'd occurred. Kakeru assumed that Floris's lack of speech either meant that she hadn't noticed, or, if she had, didn't want to talk about it at length, either.

"Crazy shit, my dudes," the pointed hat man remarked, as he raised his vision to the tops of the great pines, and raised his open palm to his forehead. "Why'd they build a fuckin' forest in here?! Damn, this is some insane shit. Almost kvlt, even."

"I have to ask… I mean, hey "my dude", what does "kvlt" mean, exactly?" Kakeru remarked, to which the pointed hat man whipped his head in Kakeru's direction, and shot him an almost hateful look. Floris was about to prepare herself for battle, before the pointed hat man seemed to emerge from his suddenly angered state, as quickly as he'd entered it. His facial expression was still one of fury, though, he looked less like he was going to try and kill Kakeru.

"What's… kvlt? Kvlt is a way of life. You're kvlt, or you're a FUCKING PUSSY!" The pointed hat man exclaimed, concluding his sentence by shouting the expletives at the top of his lungs, attracting more than one uncomfortable, or offended look from passersby, though, they looked away soon enough. This was good for Kamisato Kakeru. He didn't want too many people seeing what might just happen, if the pointed hat man continued his antics.

"Floris? Do you have your handheld radio? It appears that I've forgotten mine," Kakeru whispered, falling back in step with the former New Light operative.

Floris looked to her feet, blushing; her black, anything but stylish "what are those" were already covered in mud. "Actually, I forgot mine, too… eheheheh."

"So, are you kvlt, or are you a FUCKING PUSSY?!" The pointed hat man exclaimed, as he continued to walk, with Kakeru and Floris not far behind. Kakeru sighed, and extended his right hand, as he picked up his pace. Floris closed her eyes, as she continued to walk, hoping that she wouldn't crash into a tree, or Kakeru.

"Do you wish for a new world?"

Before the pointed hat man could answer the question that'd been posed to him, Kamisato Kakeru's right hand touched the back of the pointed hat man's back. His painted face had just begun to turn back; it had an almost confounded-looking expression.

Then, he was gone. The pointed hat man disappeared. For one second, his lips had parted, mouth beginning to form words. In the next, he'd vanished completely, as if he'd been erased. In the split second that the pointed man ceased to exist, in the "current" world, he was filled with hope. His mind fell into ease, and his raging heart fell back into a normal pace. One, two. One, two. In an Ideal World, he would find peace.

"And, that's that," Kakeru stated flatly, as he slapped his hands against one another, like he was dusting them off. Floris opened her eyes, and sighed in relief; she didn't have to witness another "World Rejecting".

"Where did he go, do you think? Do you have any ideas, Kamisato-san?" Floris inquired, as the two stopped, and took to the side of the footpath; the two could hear more fellow pedestrians making their respective ways up the path.

"That's up for debate," Kakeru remarked. "I have the feeling that he's in a much better place. A soul like his wasn't long for this world. Maybe, he's gone to a world full of whatever this kvlt is."

Floris awkwardly kicked the tip of her right shoe against the dirt of the footpath, crossing her arms beneath her bosom, as she looked around. She didn't particularly know what to say. Was there anything to say? Apparently, Kamisato Kakeru wanted to let go of the subject of the girl he'd accidentally "World Rejected"; Floris was fine with the idea, as well. It was a shame, but, there wasn't a lot either of them could do. Perhaps the girl would find a way back, somehow? If not, perhaps, she, too, was in a better place?

"Well, with our business here concluded, Floris-san, we might as well head back, and visit with the good Spymaster, and the barcoded wonder. We still have a few hours to put in," Kakeru stated. "Don't worry about it. The "disappearances". "Vurthum" will undoubtedly find a new frontman, and the accident, back there… regrettable, but, she didn't suffer."

With a sigh, Kakeru handed Floris back her phone. "As compensation, we'll… fuck it. Let's get a drink, after our slave shift is over. Just you and I; my treat. There's much to talk about, and much I'd like to introduce you to. Consider it an apology."

Floris found herself awkwardly nodding, and following behind Kakeru, without speaking so much as a single word. She felt like she should've been happier; Kamisato Kakeru was, for all intents and purposes, offering to take her on a date.

"Is there anything to say? I know Kamisato-san didn't mean to make the first girl disappear, but, making that painted man disappear? He had a family, apparently, at least a… "wife"? Not liking this "World Rejector" stuff. It's all wrong. Kamisato-san, how do you make people disappear like that, and just shrug it off? You're right. There is "much to talk about".

Accelerator looked awkwardly, to the floor, past his phone, which sat in the palms of his hands. He had, in fact, just finished sending a text message to Last Order, who he was hoping would reply sooner than later.

"Last Order? Talk to me. The fucking heroes and me are in a really uncomfortable situation. We're just standing here."

Locking his phone, and stuffing the device back into his pants pocket, the number one ranked esper in Academy City flicked his choker on, and, with the aid of the Misaka Network, reflected all sound away from him. He sighed, for a moment, before he realized that he could see their lips moving, and their fingers pointing.

Accelerator's crimson eyes turned in his head, to Kamijou Touma, and Kamijou Misaki, who were looking at one another, uncomfortably. Touma was trying to inch himself away from the map sign, and his partner was following his lead. Othinus had popped her head out from Misaki's purse, and seemed to be examining the spectacle, as well.

Though the "top dog" of Academy City could no longer hear their words, he urged his friends to follow his own lead, as he began to walk away from the map sign, awkwardly, trying to keep his line of vision as far away from the brawling competitors as possible. They were awkward to even look upon.

A man, and a woman, neither of whom the quartet recognized, had become the center of attention, in the Grand Kingdom. Nobody, perhaps not even the brawling duo knew what sparked this verbal total war, but it was obvious that the two had no qualms with making their issues known to those around them.

Hurling accusations, which the quartet, and the other, passing and onlooking patrons didn't know the context of, as well as every viable curse word known in the Japanese language – Misaki even picked up some English coined vulgarities; the woman had named her male opponent, among other titles, a "fuckernaut". A small child, who looked to be only a few years older than happy little Hamazura Daichi, looked absolutely forlorn, with a facial expression that screamed "kill me". Dutifully, he stood at the older female's side, despite the fact that he looked like he wanted to run away and never look back. Accelerator sympathized.

Accelerator, turning his head back towards his friends, who were trying to inconspicuously creepy away, felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Producing and unlocking it, he opened the device's text messaging app, and looked to the message that he'd received.

"uh oh whats happening? you ok? index says hi"

As the Kamijous joined him, Accelerator began to swiftly walk away from the map sign, and towards the gift shop. Flicking his choker off, Accelerator cringed, as sound returned to his ears, bouncing horrifically against his tympanic membranes.

The trio, with Othinus in tow, fled for the gift shop, as Touma started, at the loud, high-pitched proclamation of "I've had it, with you!"

"They're goin' to war! Hit the trenches! We've got shells coming down! It's all gone to Hell!" Touma exclaimed, as Accelerator flung the doors to the gift shop open; he abandoned ship, as the Kamijous followed behind; the upbeat, positive lyrics of the pop music that blared over the gift shop's speaker system helped filter out some of the auditory aggression that'd gotten lodged into their respective heads.

"What the f…" Touma stopped himself from dropping his own "F-bomb" mid sentence, at the sight of a smiling child, who sat in their baby carriage, happily playing with their toys. "What the heck was that? Did either of you catch how that insanity started?" Touma inquired, to which Misaki responded by shaking her head, no.

"That is a negative, Sergeant Touma. With all seriousness in tone, they appeared to be carrying on some pre-existing quarrel. I believe we just got caught up in it. A shame; they could have at least tried to maintain the pretense of civility, if only for the child's sake."

"I would've sent both of the annoying fuckers flying into a mountain, if I had to stay there any longer," Accelerator grumbled, as he began to type up a text message, which was, in fact, a reply to Last Order.

"No you wouldn't've, Accel," Touma remarked, to which Accelerator clicked his tongue, but didn't otherwise respond. "Yeesh. Some people… in public? Really?" Touma mused aloud, as the trio took to standing near the doors. Othinus still hung out from Misaki's purse, as she absorbed the sights, and sounds of the gift shop's interior.

The interior of the gift shop appeared to be even more impressive, and futuristic than the exterior; apparently, such a thing was possible. The floors were made of black tiles, that shined beneath the dull, synthetic light that beamed down from the ceilings. The ceiling, which was, in fact, part of the floor of the gift shop's second story, was made of translucent glass, above which the metallic beams, and crossbeams of the second story's floor could be seen.

There was an assortment of tall, wide bright purple, and light silver-colored racks, each of which had four long, white shelves. The individual shelves were clogged with rows of trinkets, some of which seemed to be more appealing than others to the tiny, former Magic God; stuffed dragons – the irony wasn't lost on the small, golden-haired woman – busts of armored warriors, wielding great weapons, miniature versions of various types of castles, towers, and other sorts of medieval architecture.

On some other shelves, there were stuffed, cuddly-looking versions of common marine life, such as whales, eels, and sea turtles; this lead Othinus to believe that the Grand Kingdom might've contained an aquarium.

To the right of the collection of racks, there were a number of black, sleek, red-trimmed check-out counters, all of which were manned by multiple tired-looking employees.

"No way I'm going back out there. That lady's crazy. I feel sorry for the man, and the kid that's with her; he looked just as freaked out as we were."

"I think you owe someone a display of appreciation, Touma," Othinus stated.

Touma nodded in agreement, as he turned to face his uncomfortable-looking lover; it seemed that she'd been shaken a bit more than Touma had. Her facial expression had contorted into one of nervousness, and contemplation, as if she was legitimately scared.

"Misaki, beautiful, is everything okay? You look… different," Touma spoke, softly, as he bent down, slightly, in order to meet his wife's vision.

"Hm?" Misaki didn't really seem like she was in the present world; she seemed to be in a state of deep thought. As Touma slowly leaned in, with the intention of pressing a kiss to her cheek, Misaki started. Quickly, however, she seemed to realize who it was that was leaning in towards her, and Misaki began to smile. Touma finished with the action he'd set out to perform.

"I am just a bit troubled by that display we witnessed. It is over, now, though, so it does not matter, at least not anymore. It was sudden, and the overwhelming anger caught me off guard."

Touma looked outside, through the translucent wall, to the area that was around the map sign, in the plaza; the warring individuals seemed to have departed. He spotted Floris, and "the Rookie", seemingly making their way back to the entrance of the Grand Kingdom.

"They're gone. There goes the Rookie, and Flori-chan, too," Touma stated.

"It's good, fifth ranked," Accelerator remarked. "Doesn't fucking matter where they went. As long as they don't come near us again, I won't have to fuck their day up even more."

"Violence aside," Touma awkwardly spoke, "I have to agree with Accelerator. Hopefully, they realized they were making a scene, and decided to pack up. Don't understand why people have to come to blows, like that. Can't people just talk their problems out?"

As the trio – Othinus had slid back into Misaki's purse, with the intention of napping until her guardians, and their friend reached the Citadel of Dread – continued on their way, Touma opened the nearest door that lead from the interior of the gift shop, and out to the plaza. Accelerator nodded in thanks, and Misaki awarded her husband with a smile, for his service.

Taking her arm into his own, Touma looked down at Misaki, and into her starry eyes. "I think I get why it bothered you so much. At least, I think I do. From what you've talked to me about… I'm sorry you had to grow up like that. That wasn't fair to you, at all."

Misaki shrugged her right shoulder, weakly. "It is more the memories that the display brought back, than the display itself that bothers me. Like I said; it is over, now, my prince. No matter what throws itself in my way, I will not allow it to ruin this day. I really do appreciate your concern. Thank you, Touma."

"It's what I'm here for," Touma remarked. "I do my best to be a man. Not a temper tantrum-throwing boy."

Touma quickly realized what he'd said, and tried to take it back, but, Misaki shook her head. "No, Touma, you are telling the truth. That exactly what he was, and still is. An immature boy, who has yet to grow into a man. I hold no love for that man in my heart, my prince. To say that I would weep at his funeral would be to speak a lie. My mother deserves so much better; but enough is enough. The past is the past, husband. Let us enjoy the harmony we have, to the fullest extent."

Touma kissed his wife's forehead. Misaki's uncharacteristic coldness unsettled him, but, he understood it. There was a lot of dark history there, between his wife, and the mysterious people who hated him simply for existing, his in-laws. "Yeah, beautiful. That sounds good to me."

Accelerator had already taken his place at the map sign; the warring individuals from before had been replaced by two young men; in one of their arms, a little boy, clad in a Gekota onesie was looking about excitedly. The trio much preferred the change of scenery.

"Alright, so, where the… heck, were we?" Accelerator remarked, as he pointed to the map. "We're here, in "the… "Plaza of Beginnings". Fuc- hecking, original."

"That's about right," Touma spoke, as he leaned in, and began to examine the map. Accelerator stepped aside, to allow the two young men, and the human Gekota to have a look; both smiled at Accelerator, who nodded back, in respect. "Actually, this is really cool," Touma stated, pointing to the large, round circle in the center of the map; it was surrounded by different illustrations of what almost looked like landmasses. "Here, in "the Hub…" yeah, you're right about the originality. But it's not the names that matter, right?"

Accelerator shook his head, no, crossing his arms. "I think names matter a lot, hero. Imagine if Academy City was called "Place Full of Schools?" Sounds a lot less interesting, right? You've got to put effort, into these things, hero."

"You consider writing a book, Accel? You've got some crazy ideas, you know. You'd probably make millions," Touma responded. In Misaki's purse, Othinus, who hadn't quite fallen into sleep's embrace, smiled. "See, "number one"? I'm not the only one who thinks that you're author material."

As the two young men, and their excited human Gekota took their leave, Accelerator let himself loose. "A book? Why the fuck would I write a book? What the fuck would I write about, hero? I guess, if stupid shit like "Harems and You" by that Yuki guy can get published, I probably could, too. Heh."

"Please, Accel, don't talk about harems…" Touma muttered. "I went through enough of that nonsense in school. Misaki can vouch." Softly clearing his throat, Touma continued where he'd left off, before he ended up going on a long, and winding tangent. "See this "the Hub"? If you got through "the Enchanted Forest", you could go from "the Hub" to anywhere you want in the Kingdom. We could just go to "the Hub", and to the part of the Kingdom that the Citadel of Dread is in, unless you guys want to do other things, along the way. I'm up for anything, really."

"The area that houses the Citadel of Dread," Misaki began, pointing to a large, black landmass on the map, which was covered in what looked like thick, bubbling red liquid, of some type, "is called… "the Butchery"? That sounds violent."

"The Butchery?" Touma inquired, as if he hadn't heard his wife the first time. Misaki nodded, and Touma raised an eyebrow. "Okay. That actually sounds awesome. So, all in favor of going to "the Butchery", say "yeeee."

"Yeeee!" Misaki exclaimed, shrugging off her state of nervousness, and darkened nostalgia. She wasn't going to let him, that man, control any more of her life. He'd already taken enough from her. Misaki didn't need him. As long as she had her husband, Kamijou Touma, and her own little family, she'd be okay.

"Fucking, goddamn hero…" Accelerator grumbled. With a sigh, he shrugged his shoulders, and announced, "yeeee."

Gently taking his wife's hand in his own, Touma took the lead; a smiling, giggling Misaki, having left her woes behind, wasn't far behind. Accelerator, who stuffed his hands into his pockets, grinned, and shook his head as he followed.

Crossing the bridge, the married couple stopped to look over the edge of the bridge's railings, to the flowing stream below. Accelerator folded his arms over the railing, and enthusiastically observed the ducks that were flapping their wings, and drinking from the rushing water of the small, stony lake. Misaki pointed at them, and exclaimed, "aww!" as Touma wrapped his arm around his beloved's shoulders, and pulled her close, grinning.

"Cute little guys, huh? Wonder if they live here," Touma remarked. "If they do, I bet they eat good."

"Do they?! Aww! They're so cute!" Misaki exclaimed, as she nuzzled her husband. "I want to take one home with us."

"I wonder how Sphynx would feel about that," Touma jokingly mused, as he raised his fingers to his chin. "I bet Sphynx would be pretty peeved. Poor Sphynx would lose the spot as Index's wingman."

Misaki smiled, as the ducks continued about their business, seemingly not bothered by the fact that they were being observed. "Othinus would have a new steed to ride into battle."

Looking to one another, both seeing different visions of the same former Magic God riding into battle on the back of a saddled duckling, the married couple burst out laughing, together.

Accelerator looked to them, and felt just a bit more enthusiastic. If love had a physical definition, it had to be the Kamijous. Misaki's starry eyes followed a group of ducklings, who swam dutifully behind their parents, kicking their tiny, webbed feet back and forth with considerable force in their movements. It only made them seem even more adorable to Kamijou Misaki.

Crossing the bridge, as Kamijou Misaki waved her goodbyes to her new duckling friends, the trio, and a slumbering Othinus took their first collective steps into "the Enchanted Forest"; the sights hadn't been entirely unexpected, given that, just beyond "the Plaza of Beginnings", great pines stood tall, as if they were keeping watch over the Plaza, but, the married couple was still taken aback. Accelerator silently approved of the sights around him.

There were multiple, twisting footpaths, which were made up of dirtied, dark orange bricks, and loads of mud. The footpaths were flanked by sparsely-placed, white fences. Accelerator contemplated flicking his choker on, and directing the mud away from him with the aid of the Misaka Network, but, he deemed it unnecessary. Even if it would be funny to see the married couple next to him get splashed with mud.

"Allllll aboard!" Touma suddenly proclaimed, as he lifted Misaki up; gasping, at first, she began to giggle, as Touma hoisted her up, and, getting her into the correct position, began carrying her like she was a princess, or, more accurately, a Queen; he could hardly feel her. Misaki, despite her tall, muscled body, was by no means a burden for the gentle giant to carry around. Accelerator placed his hand to his forehead, and chuckled, as he shook his head from side to side.

"Goddamn hero, you're so fucking corny."

"The Ojou-Sama can't get muddy, can she? I, the Ojou-Sama's champion, won't allow such a thing! Hyaah!" Touma proclaimed, with a confident nod of his head.

"Oh, my hero!" Misaki said, jokingly. Wrapping her available arm around her husband's shoulders, while keeping the arm which held her purse stable, and raised, Misaki closed her eyes, as she allowed herself to enjoy the ride. She didn't care what others thought. "I have such a perfect, adoring husband. This is all I want from him. I just want to be loved by this man, and I just want to love this man in return. In Kamijou Touma, I have everything I could ever want, or ever need. You truly are my hero. You know that, though. There is no need to say it."

Down the footpath that they'd entered from, Kamijou Misaki, who was carried by Kamijou Touma, and Accelerator made their way towards a fork in the road. Along the way, Accelerator examined the surroundings that seemed to almost be closing in on him; this "Enchanted Forest" truly was enchanted, if only because there was hardly anything like it in all of the modernized, urban Academy City. Accelerator had never walked in a forest before. He'd never even taken the brats on a walk in a forest, or the forest. Whatever forest, it didn't matter. He hadn't been in one, or any, before.

It was beautiful. Accelerator found his crimson eyes widening, as he soaked up the sights, and the sounds, and even the smells. There were more trees than just pines; there were old oaks, great, weeping willows, smaller bushes, and what appeared to be fruit-bearing trees.

"Oi, hero, fifth ranked," Accelerator called. "What kind of fucking tree is that? The one with the yellow things on it, off the path."

Touma cast his vision to the direction in which Accelerator pointed, and Misaki opened her eyes, as she craned her head in the same direction as her husband's. "That one, down there? With the people around it? Well, I guess they all have people around them… but, you get what I mean," Touma responded. "Pear tree, I think. Looks like you can pick them."

Indeed, Accelerator squinted, and laid his vision on a large, wooden sign; there was a smaller footpath, that was a bit less wide than the footpath that he and the married couple were traversing, that lead down towards the area in which the apparent fruit-bearing trees were located. The footpath also appeared to be a bit less muddy, as well. On the wooden sign, there was bright red, underlined text, that appeared to have been painted on. It read, "FEEL FREE TO PICK; BASKETS AVAILABLE IN PLAZA OF BEGINNINGS".

"This "Grand Kingdom" is so nice!" Misaki remarked. "I wonder just how much there is to do. Fruit-picking was certainly not something I expected to find in an amusement park; though, I suppose, given that this is Academy City, the abnormality is appropriate enough."

"Honestly? What's crazier, to me at least, is that everything seems to be included in the flat rate for the ticket, it's crazy, but, I can't complain. How could I? Only question I have is, how does this place stay open?" Touma rhetorically inquired.

Accelerator wanted to believe there was some benign explanation; he didn't find himself truly believing that. Perhaps it was simply the result of his years in the darkness, creeping up on him at an unexpected time.

"Who knows?" Accelerator responded. "Who cares. They've got to make their money somehow. Lots of people are buying fucking tickets. Enough people, at least. Probably enough to keep the place running."

After passing the fruit-bearing trees by, and leaving behind those who picked from them, Academy City's "top dog", and the married couple carried along their way.

"The Enchanted Forest" was expansive; the winding footpaths brought the trio up mountainous paths, from which they could see small waterfalls, whose runoff created streams, that snaked throughout the Forest, down said mountainous paths, which eventually lead into a small clearing, where wooden picnic benches were set up, around a large, ornate, stone fountain, which was in the center of the clearing. There was far less mud, and much more tall, moist, bright green grass in this clearing. Either sitting at the picnic tables, or standing up, and enjoying the sights and sounds of the clearing, families, groups of teenagers, and elderly couples mingled as equals.

Surrounded by tile flooring, the clearing's fountain's spout was, in fact, a bust of a child, with feathery, bird-like wings protruding from his back. He stood tall, his left hand placed confidently on his hip. In his right hand, the child held a trumpet, which was raised to his lips; from the trumpet's bell, there was a stream of water, continuously flowing into the fountain's base, which was roped off.

Reaching into her purse, and doing her best not to awaken the slumbering Othinus, Kamijou Misaki produced her phone. She slung her purse back onto her shoulder, as gently as she could, and looked up to Touma.

"Selfie?" Misaki inquired, to which Touma chuckled, before he kissed the top of his wife's head, and took her into an embrace.

"Let's get Accel-chan in on this one, too, huh? We should get Othi-chan, too, even if she'll grump out on us, if we wake her up," Touma responded. Misaki smiled, warmly, and nodded her head enthusiastically, looking up to her husband. Touma stroked the back of Misaki's head with his left hand, twirling strands of her honey-colored, golden hair between his fingers, while his right arm was wrapped around her waist.

"It's good that you're feeling better, beautiful. That face… that nervousness. It was killing me. I never want to be the one responsible for making you look like that. I never will be. I refuse. I won't be a husband like your father was to your mother. Never, ever. Fuck, I adore you. I'll never hurt you."

"Wait, what? What the fuck are you rambling on about?" Accelerator inquired, as he began to step towards the perpetually hugging duo. He couldn't help but grin. Seeing these two treasuring one another was a breath of fresh air, after witnessing the chaos at the "Plaza of Beginnings'" map sign.

"Come on, Accel. We'll get Othi-chan, and we'll take a group selfie, in front of the fountain. What do you say?" Touma offered, tilting his head to one side.

Academy City's "top dog" shook his head, as if to say no, but still walked forward. Taking his place next to Kamijou Touma, the trio stood a few meters away from the fountain. As Touma reached into his wife's purse, producing a groggy, groaning Othinus, Misaki opened her phone's camera app, and began to get her phone's frontal camera into position. With the fountain's bust, and a good portion of the rest of the fountain in the background, Misaki hovered her finger over the virtual button that would snap a picture.

Touma placed a narrowed-eyed Othinus on his shoulder. In his right arm, he took his wife, Kamijou Misaki, who wrapped her available arm around her husband's waist. In his left, he took Accelerator, who awkwardly accepted the embrace.

"What's the word? We've got to have a word," Touma stated. "Cheese? Will cheese do?"

"Cheese will do just fine by me," Misaki responded.

"Whatever," Accelerator snorted. He wasn't going to admit it, even if he wanted to, but, he was having the time of his life. This felt normal, and good. It was something he thought he'd never have, something he never thought he deserved, yet, here he was, doing normal things, with abnormal people who'd somehow become completely normal. It was almost surreal.

"…cheese?" A tired Othinus asked, as she began rubbing her eyes. Tossing her head back, the tiny, former Magic God sat up, crossing one leg over the other, as she supported her body with her arms, whose hands' palms were pressed against the back of her guardian's shoulders.

"Alright, the tribunal has spoken!" Kamijou Touma remarked, chuckling, as he tightened his grip on Kamijou Misaki, who nuzzled him in response. With a wide, warm grin on his face, Touma looked into the camera, his pupils focused on the reflection in his wife's phone's screen.

Accelerator looked into the screen of Kamijou Misaki's phone. He saw Kamijou Misaki herself, smiling warmly, and widely, one of her eyes closed, her other, open eye sparkling with overwhelming joy. She looked like she was having the time of her life, too. She looked like she was in heaven, being close to her husband, and just enjoying his presence.

Accelerator saw Kamijou Touma, grinning a wide, toothy grin, with one of his arms around his adoring wife's shoulders, and around Accelerator's own body. He knew that the Kamijous deserved this, after all of the insane shit the two had been through together. This normality, this peaceful love was the endgame reward for their trials and tribulations. Academy City's "top dog" couldn't be prouder of the two. They'd achieved so much, and had gotten so far. Where others would've likely fallen apart, Kamijou Misaki and Kamijou Touma's bond had only been strengthened by the struggles they faced, together.

He saw himself. He was clad in his usual attire – he wasn't one to change outfits. His bangs hung in his face, not necessarily unkempt, but certainly long. Beneath his snowy hair, Accelerator could see his crimson, glowing eyes – the eyes that so many of Misaka Mikoto's sisters, Last Order and Misaka Worst's sisters had seen, before they died. It all still haunted him. He couldn't help but look at himself, even in this moment, and see a murderer, the shade of a monster buried, but never truly gone.

Despite this reality, he breathed deeply, and tried to convince himself that his crimes were in the past. He'd make mistakes. Terrible, costly mistakes that would haunt him until the moment that he died, maybe beyond death's gates, if those on the "Other Side" were right, but, he'd learned from them, or, more accurately, he'd be taught, by the man who currently had his arm around the "top dog's" form.

Othinus tried her best to open her eyes. Putting on a warm, genuine smile, Othinus looked into the tempered glass screen of the phone that was almost half as big as she was. Though she didn't know it, her thoughts were comparable to those of Accelerator's. Only ten years ago, barely a blink to an immortal, ageless being like "One-Eyed Othinus", she'd been a monster, an all-consuming, selfish demon whose only goal was to bend the world to her own whims. Yet, below her, and next to her, the two people who, at one point in the past, were supposed to have been her sworn enemies were her everything. It was an irony that wasn't lost upon her.

Othinus felt her functioning, left eye becoming moist. Her throat was tightening, and her chin was buckling; but she wasn't sad. Othinus was anything but sad. She was happy, overjoyed, even. She'd been saved by two people who should've killed her for her crimes, and, yet, they hadn't. Othinus was appreciative.

"CHEESE!"

Kamijou Touma's proclamation started a chain reaction.

"Cheese!" Kamijou Misaki happily exclaimed, smiling, warmly, and making her well-known, cutesy pose.

Accelerator sighed, and mumbled, "Cheese."

"Assorted dairy products," Othinus squeaked, as loudly as she could manage.

Kamijou Misaki's phone produced the sound that an old timey camera would've made; it sounded like a loud, but oddly satisfying "cliiiick".

"Alright, goddamn hero, fifth ranked, let's see what you got," Accelerator spoke, as he broke away from Touma's friendly embrace. Stuffing his hands into his own pocket, he pulled his left hand back out, which had produced his own phone. Unlocking the device, and checking his phone's text messaging app, Accelerator saw that he hadn't gotten anything more, since his previous, short conversation with Last Order had ended. He proceeded to start a new one.

"Last Order. Love you, and the other brat too. Hope you're having fun with the nun."

Locking his phone, and stuffing it back into his pocket, his left hand returning with it, Touma waved him over. Misaki was looking down at her phone, with a smile on her face. Running her finger from the bottom of its screen to its top, she dragged the same finger across the phone's screen, lower, towards its home button.

"I turned the brightness up; the photo we took was difficult to see with a low brightness setting," Misaki explained. Accelerator looked down at the phone's screen, and chuckled, quietly, but with audible mirth, as he rubbed his chin, between his right hand's index finger, and thumb.

"It's fucking beautiful. I love it. Print one out for me. I want to hang it up, with the pictures of the brats. There, I said it, okay? Fucking heroes, goddamn one-eyed brat," Accelerator huffed.

"I couldn't agree more," Othinus stated. "Could you bring up this way? I can't really see myself. Is my hair alright? It must've gotten fairly disturbed, in your purse, Misaki."

Misaki gently raised her phone's screen towards Othinus, who held her perch on Touma's shoulder. Leaning in, the tiny, former Magic God nodded in approval, closing her left eye as she did so. "I approve this."

"Look at you," Touma spoke, looking in his wife's direction, as she brought her phone back down, towards her own form. "You and Othi-chan are both so beautiful. Just… just look at you two. I think I might be dreaming. Can someone check on me?"

"Corny fucking hero," Accelerator muttered, shaking his head. Othinus looking in Accelerator's direction, and shrugged, with a facial expression of awkwardness. She shared his sentiments. Almost; Othinus was blushing.

Misaki stood up on her toes, and placed a kiss to her husband's lips, and then, on his right cheek. "Thank you, my little commoner," she whispered.

"It's my duty to make you look good, Ojou-Sama," Touma whispered back, with a wide, enthusiastic grin. "I'm just the commoner. Might I shine your crown, Ojou-Sama?"

"I will tell you exactly what parts of your Queen's body you can shine, with your saliva, and that tongue of yours," Misaki hissed, before she pulled away, forcing herself to have more wholesome thoughts.

"Come on, you fucking nymphomaniacs," Accelerator jokingly snarled. "You'll have all fucking night to do your weird fetish shit."

"F-fetish…?" Misaki innocent inquired, as she locked arms with her husband. "Whatever do you mean, Accelerator-san?"

"He knows too much," Touma muttered, his eyes narrowing, as his voice took on an almost conspiratorial tone. "He knows the secrets of our super secret fetish society, beautiful. We'll have to purge his mind."

Misaki began digging in her purse; first, in its largest, center pouch, then in the smaller pouches that were in front of, and behind the center pouch. She even checked the even smaller compartments on the outside of the purse; but it was to no avail. Kamijou Misaki sighed in disappointment when there was no remote to be found.

"Ah, I thought I had at least one of my remotes. I was not actually going to use it, but, I thought it would be funny, if I was to produce it, and then, produce a small… "PII!" as I pointed it in Accelerator's direction," Misaki explained.

"Use your imagination, fifth ranked," Accelerator suggested. "Besides, it's not like your ability would've worked on me, anyways. I'm not common trash."

"But you're still trash," Touma sarcastically remarked; he was struggling to hold back his own laughing fit, as Misaki turned away, fingers raised to her lips, as if she'd heard some offensive joke, and was trying not to let anyone onto the fact that she found it hilarious, for some unexplainable reason.

"And you're a corny, whipped motherfucker, hero," Accelerator jokingly prodded, as he chuckled. All parties involved knew that there was no malice in these words. Even Othinus couldn't help but giggle, as she shook her head. "So, hero, fifth ranked, one-eyed brat, we done? Or are you going to annoy me with more fucking selfies?"

"Tsundere," Touma mocked, to which Misaki gently pinched the top of his hand, before she took it into her own, her fingers interlocking with her husband's, as always.

"I am satisfied, I think, for this area, at least," Misaki stated, with a sagely nod of her head. "Is there anything you would like to take a picture of, Touma, Othinus?"

"Not really much else here," Touma spoke with a shrug, as he began to lead. Falling into step with her husband, Misaki swung her arm, and therefore, Touma's as well, back and forth. With a chuckle, Touma continued. "Just trees, and benches, and other people. I'm good for here."

"As am I," Othinus remarked, as loudly as she could manage. "If I see anything that deserves to be immortalized, I'll be sure to let you know. For now, I think… I think I want to try and stay out. I'm enjoying the scenery."

"Be our guest, Othi-chan," Touma responded, as he stroked the top of Othinus' head with the index finger of his available hand. Othinus nuzzled it, blushing, her left eye closing as she did so. "We'd love for you to stay. Stay awhile… and listen."

"Nerd," Othinus jabbed. "Go roll your dice, and drink your carbonated soda."

"Don't say that around Saten-san," Touma jokingly warned, as he turned his head, to look at the area in front of him, as not to unwittingly crash into someone else who was equally distracted. "Pretty sure she eats, drinks, and breathes Traps and Trolls."

Accelerator chuckled to himself, more than to his companions. "Yeah. When she's not trying to prove the fucking existence of some fucking mythical monster."

"In all honesty, Accelerator-san," Misaki began, turning her head to look at her old friend, "some myths have considerable evidence to reinforce them, more so than others. There is considerable evidence that proves the Mothman of Academy City, for example, is all too real."

"Saten-san's turned my wife into a myth hunter!" Touma cried in mock-despair. "Next thing I know, our room's going to be plastered with pictures of the Mothman, and newspaper clippings."

"Hush, you," Misaki remarked, giggling, as Touma laughed heartily. Accelerator shook his head, his lips curling into a smile.

As the quartet left the clearing behind, they stepped back into the twisting, muddy footpaths of "the Enchanted Forest" proper. Othinus changed shoulders; Touma connected his own with Accelerator's, who she climbed onto. Othinus used his long, snowy hair as leverage, and climbed atop his head. Folding her legs inwards, Othinus took two strands of Accelerator's hair into her tiny hands, as if they were reigns. Accelerator grunted in response, but didn't reject Othinus' odd form of friendly affection.

"To arms, Ojou-Sama!" Touma spoke, as he lifted Misaki back up, and again began to carry her, like she was a Queen, whose shoes shouldn't be dirtied. Blushing, Misaki folded her arms around her husband's neck once again, and leaned in to kiss his lips. "Thank you, peasant boy. You'd do well to know that your Ojou-Sama can't possibly be expected to walk, like a… commoner." Raising her head, Misaki closed her eyes, and pouted, to the best of her ability.

"You're going to make me walk with a limp, if you keep that up," Touma muttered. "I like it, though. I really like it. You should…"

Touma looked almost embarrassed, all of a sudden. Though Accelerator was being pestered by Othinus, who was standing atop his head, a hand raised to her brow, as if she was looking for something in particular, Touma still looked suspiciously in the direction of Accelerator and Othinus.

Misaki unwrapped one of her arms from around her husband's neck, and ran her fingers of Touma's cheek. "Touma? What is the matter? You do not have to be embarrassed. If there is something you would like for me to do, all you have to do is ask. I will do anything for you, you deserve it. I want to help satisfy your physical needs."

"M-Misaki… c-can y-you… Can you ohoho for me? When we're, you know, in the sheets."

"… ohoho?" Misaki inquired, confused. Before long, however, she understood, and grinned, smugly, her starry eyes sparkling with amusement. "You want me to do the laugh. I understand, my prince. My, my, you really are a little peasant boy."

Leaning in, Misaki pressed her lips to her husband's ear, and, taking a deep, but soft breath, she proceeded to whisper.

"Ohoho. My little commoner, my little servant. Your Queen will ohoho for you, whenever you would like for her to."

"Holy fuck," Touma muttered. A singe bead of sweat dropped down his forehead, as a pleasant, pleasured chill ran down his spine, causing his body to vibrate, slightly. A single vocalization could make him rock hard, and form a monumental bulge in his pants, which he had to lean forward, slightly, to hide. He could feel it pressing against his undergarments, threatening to try and burst forth. He subconsciously tried to will it down, but, Misaki's smug, brattish facial expression was pumping a nonstop flow of blood into him.

Touma's voice dropped to an even softer whisper, as he just barely avoided an oncoming tree. "Holy fuck, you need to do that for me… later. Sometime. Please? Ride me, fucking sit on me, while you ohoho down at me."

"I will think about it, peasant boy," Misaki remarked. She, of course, had "thought" about it just after her husband had suggested the idea, and she loved it. She knew she needed his enormous member inside of her again, and sooner than later. The craving was growing, she could practically feel her walls pleading to be rubbed, her lips throbbing, and aching to be parted. She felt embarrassed, inwardly – this was supposed to be a friendly outing; but these feelings came whenever they deemed it necessary. Misaki did her best to tell herself that her desire to make love to her smitten husband was a natural, and okay one, even if that desire manifested itself while she was in public.

"Let's keep it PG thirteen! I'd call you sinners, but, well, you're in wedlock. To Helheim with it, you're still sinners. I know what you did, before you were married!" Othinus squeaked maniacally.

"Fucking one-eyed brat," Accelerator mumbled. "At least the hero and the fifth ranked get laid."

"And you do?" Othinus smugly replied, as she sat herself down atop Accelerator's head, and began to whip two strands of his hair. "Mush, "number one!"

"I'll fucking throw you in the mud," Accelerator remarked. "That's none of your business, but I'll have you know that I've had a fling or two."

"Wait, what?" Touma inquired, seemingly taken off guard by the proclamation. "You've gotten poon?"

At the mention of "poon", Misaki shook her head, disapprovingly, before she placed the index finger, and thumb of her available arm's hand to her husband's forehead.

Flick.

"Poon"? That is nearly as bad as calling a woman's private area a "snatch". Come, Touma, you are an intelligent man, with a vast vocabulary." A part of her disapproved of Touma's wording, but, another part was glad that her desired had been reigned in, by the breaking of the mood.

"Forgiveness, Ojou-Sama," Touma responded, repeatedly nodding his head, and closing his eyes in mock-remorse. "I sometimes forget that you're a proper lady, and not just one of the guys."

Though she was never truly "angry", or even really "irritated" in the first place, any negative feelings towards her husband's choice of wording faded, as a blush formed on her face. She couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him, nodding, like some sort of repentant monk. "Though I know it, I greatly enjoy hearing you say that you feel that way about me. I want to be your closest friend, as much as I want to be your lover."

"You are, beautiful!" Touma spoke, enthusiastically, placing a kiss to her forehead, then, to either of her cheeks, and, finally, locking his lips against Misaki's own. Closing her eyes, Misaki returned her adoring husband's kiss, without a second of hesitation. "You've never just been my lover. You've always been… you're my best friend. My bestest, bestest friend, too."

Misaki's blush only grew, deepening in its shade, from light pink, to an almost dark red, before she began to nuzzle her beloved.

"You're both so fucking corny," Accelerator spoke. "Guess I'll still answer your stupid question. I've never really scored too big. Nothing major. Just groupies," Accelerator lied. "When you're the top fucking dog, you tend to attract people. Some of them are alright, I guess. Most people are fucking annoying, though."

Othinus had caught a small, white beetle that had merely trying to pass them by. She'd spotted it, and, curiosity had egged her on. It was so strange. Looking into its eyes, Othinus cocked her head. The white thing, with its translucent wings that had come to a standstill, looked back. It didn't seem to be particularly distraught. Its legs fell still, as Othinus cocked her head to one side, and offered the thing an awkward facial expression.

"Strange creature," Othinus muttered, before she set it free. As if nothing had happened, it took to the skies, and flew away. "You don't suppose you've seen anything like that before, have you, "number one?" Othinus inquired.

"See what? I didn't see shit. Maybe you should get your eye checked," Accelerator smugly replied, stretching his arms above his head, before he began to groan in pleasure.

"A beetle. Completely white, wings with an extremely intricate pattern. It didn't seem panicked, when I caught it. It almost seemed to stop moving, once I had gotten my hands around its outer shell."

Accelerator smirked, mirthfully. The beetle that Othinus had encountered wasn't any ordinary, organic creature, but, that didn't make it any less of a creature, than an organic beetle would've been. "Relax, one-eyed brat. It's one of the second ranked's. They fucking fly all over the place. Second ranked wouldn't hurt a fly."

"The "second ranked…" Othinus quietly mused to herself. "Kakine Teitoku. Dark Matter, no? A pleasant man… thing… to be certain. At least, the "new" Kakine Teitoku. The first was…"

The former Magic God realized what part of her dark past she had accidentally dragged up. "He was a bit of a piece of fecal matter."

"You met the old one?" Accelerator inquired. "Hope he's fucking dead, or locked up in some underground vault. Fucking asshole. If he ever shows his face, I'll fucking kill him myself. Useless trash."

Othinus didn't respond.

"Sign ahead! Wooaahhh, peasant boy!" Misaki proclaimed. "Slow down, my steed."

Touma tried to shrug off the bulge that was forming, once again, in his pants; he found himself having a difficult time, more difficult than he liked. Breathing a sigh of defeat, he accepted his fate. He was a sex maniac.

Moving closer, Accelerator examined the sign, as groups of people, some, families, others, groups of excited younger people, some looking to be around the trio's respective ages – surely, there was no one else nearly as old as Othinus at the Grand Kingdom – moved around the quartet. Light brown in coloration, with text written upon it, the sign's design had a large arrowhead that pointed upwards, and a large arrowhead that pointed downwards. The arrowhead that pointed upwards had bright, white text that read "THE HUB", while the arrowhead that pointed downwards had text of an identical font, and coloration, that read "THE PLAZA OF BEGINNINGS".

"To "the Hub", then?" Touma inquired. "I really want to see what "the Butchery" is like. I'm having thoughts of, you know, typical haunted house stuff. Bats, fake blood, guys in costumes… kind of hoping that illusion of mine gets shattered."

"Absolutely," Misaki confirmed, with a warm smile, her eyes closed. "I, too, want to see what this "Butchery" has on offer."

"Doesn't fucking matter, where you go, I'll go. It's not like anything can touch me," Accelerator remarked. He would've flicked his choker on, and displayed his endless power, just for the Hell of it, if Othinus wasn't riding atop his head.

"Sounds like someone is nervous," The one-eyed, former Magic God teased. "Is the baby scared?"

"I'll seriously throw you in the fucking mud, one-eyed brat," Accelerator grumbled.

Touma, careful of where he stepped, due to the somewhat slippery nature of the muddy footpath beneath him, began to walk forwards, correctly assuming he wasn't supposed to fly upwards to get to "the hub". Misaki opened her eyes, and observed the sky. The warm light provided by the sun was beginning to become cooler, and darken, just a bit. It was barely noticeable. The idea of running away from masked performers, wielding bloodied, harmless weapons, hand in hand with her husband, in the darkness of the evening was oddly appealing to Kamijou Misaki. She felt excitement begin to surge throughout her being. Misaki couldn't be any happier to be sharing this moment with her beloved, and two of the individuals who mattered most in her life.

"Touma, what do you think "the Butchery" will be like?" Misaki inquired, excitedly.

"I'm pretty hyped, myself; I don't really know, but my hopes are pretty high. This place seems expansive enough already. I think we'll be in for a treat, as long as Accel-chan doesn't send anyone blasting off into the atmosphere."

"I'll fucking do it, if anyone tries to touch me," Accelerator jokingly warned. Kamijou Misaki and Kamijou Touma laughed at his antics, to which Accelerator could only respond by chuckling along with them, the seriousness in his facial expression fading into obscurity. Othinus pointed her left hand's index finger outward, and proclaimed, as loudly as she could, "To "the Hub!" Away!"


	13. Other Lives, Other Perspectives

Kamijou Index fluffed her hair, and looked into the mirror, that hung on the wall of the bathroom of Accelerator's, Misaka Worst's, and Last Order's home. She hadn't originally paid a visit to the bathroom to check herself out; she'd actually had to use the toilet, and dispose of waste that'd been pushing her bladder into a raging screaming fit. Aside from the fact that her face was red, and her lips were curled into an almost sarcastic-looking smile, Index's physical form was in peak condition.

Stepping out of the bathroom, feeling quite relieved, Index made her way to the kitchen, stumbling only once or twice, which lead to her giggling loudly. On the counter, a translucent, average-sized glass cup sat, almost empty. The residue, left behind by a bright, yellow substance that'd been mostly consumed gleamed beneath the synthetic light shined down upon the kitchen counter, by the room's ceiling lights.

Opening the fridge with a somewhat forceful yank, which caused a number of objects inside of the fridge to shake, Index grabbed for one of these objects; it was a tall, plastic bottle of lemonade. A bright, yellow cap sat on the top of the bottle. It was obviously an off-brand variety; the "brand" was referred to as "Just Value". Simple black letters, in a simple font, typed onto a simple, white label.

Beneath the "Just Value" "brand" name, there was a picture of cartoony, half-sliced lemons, stacked on top of one another. From them, lemon juice dripped into the white void beneath them. The cartoony lemons appeared to be floating in this void, with nothing holding them up; obviously, Index was putting too much thought into the matter. Producing the bottle of lemonade, which she'd spent more than a few seconds simply staring at, Index closed the fridge door behind her, and poured more into her glass.

Opening the fridge door, and then returning the bottle of lemonade to the section of the fridge's fourth shelf, where she'd found it, she reached to the back of the fridge, and grasped at a glass bottle. Inside of it, clear liquid, that uncannily resembled water splashed. The bottle's cap was tall, and dark red. The glass bottle was square-shaped, and had a much more ornate label than the bottle of lemonade. Circular, most of the label was dark red, like the cap, with a dark, golden trim. In the center of the label, the brand's logo was found. Vaguely brick-like, the text was the same coloration as the label's trimmed borders. "Jack's Finest", it read.

Prying the lid off, Index placed her nostrils just over the glass bottle, and inhaled. The scent was strong, and it made the nun's nose scrunch. Her lips curled into a pout, before she began to giggle. Approaching her glass, Index let a small stream of the liquid drip into her glass. Yanking it away, after just the right amount of clear liquid had been poured into the glass, Index proceeded to put the glass bottle back into the fridge, where she'd found it, label facing away from her; just as she'd found it. Mixing the two liquids together in her glass, with a straw, Index grinned malevolently, her face still bright red.

Leaving the kitchen behind, and rushing up the stairs that lead to Last Order's and Worst's rooms, Index stumbled into Last Order's room. The clone of Misaka Mikoto turned her head to face Index; like her friend, Last Order's face was bright red. On her desk, Last Order had an identical glass, filled with an identical substance to that which filled Index's glass.

"Do it, MISAKA MISAKA demands, wanting to see if her friend has the proverbial balls to become fully intoxicated!" Last Order exclaimed, as she leapt up from her desk's chair. Stumbling, slightly, Last Order began to pump her fist, as Index looked on, giggling. "Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink, MISAKA MISAKA chants!"

Index shrugged her shoulders, and, placing her glass to her to her lips, she tossed her head back, and swiftly chugged the glass's contents, as Last Order's music thumped, the jack of the surround-sound speakers that were placed in the top corners of her room plugged into her tablet's headphone port, whose music streaming app was open. The music was instrumental; it sounded like the instrumental beat that a western MC would rap over. The instrumental's bass thumped, repeatedly, three times, then four, then three thumps again.

On her head, Last Order wore a Gekota baseball cap, which was turned to the right. Over her eyes, she wore a pair of bright green sunglasses, despite, or perhaps because of the fact that she was indoors. Nodding her head, repeatedly, in line with the instrumental's bass's thumps, Last Order stood with a slight hunch, her lips curled into an almost aggressive-looking scowl.

Removing the glass from her lips, and wiping the top of her left hand over her lips, Index produced a content sigh, before she began to hiccup. "Last Order… I'm so fucked. You know what we should do?"

Last Order was still taken aback by Index's cursing; she'd never heard the nun use such vulgar language under normal circumstances. Of course, as intoxication floated around the higher mind of Last Order, it suddenly didn't seem like such a big deal. They were both "fried"; the clone of Misaka Mikoto was at least going to have some fun.

"MISAKA is pretty turnt, too… what should we do, MISAKA MISAKA asks?" Last Order inquired, as she continued to perpetually lean forward, slightly, in place, and bend, and then un-bend her knees.

"We should check and see if the Conspiracy King is streaming."

Last Order suddenly broken down, laughing; she knew actually what Index was referring to.

"MISAKA thanks that's a great idea, too, MISAKA MISAKA explains, as she struggles to control her laughter," Last Order spoke. Taking a hold of Last Order's tablet, Index proceeded to exit the device's music streaming app, by pressing the home button. On the home device's home screen, Index scrolled to the side, repeatedly, until she eventually found the infamous streaming service, Qoozle Watch.

Index knew there were far superior streaming services available; Qoozle Watch commonly scraped the bottom of the barrel. Index knew its "content creators" consisted of idiots reading out information they'd stolen from unreliable Internet news sites, and offensive "content creators" who couldn't find an audience anywhere else.

Tapping on the app's icon, Index turned to face Last Order, who'd taken to standing next to her, arms crossed. Last Order's facial expression was still one of absolute seriousness. Even without the instrumental music, Last Order was still leaning in place, like a true to life gangster. Index could barely contain her laughter; a drunk Last Order was a funny Last Order.

Index turned back, just as the loading bar had been completely colored purple. There was a slight rippling effect, on the purple loading bar, but it didn't do much other than make Index feel like she was becoming motion sick; the longer her eyes looked at it, the more Index felt like she was going to upchuck. How much alcohol had she even consumed? Her most recent glass could've only been her third. Or was it her fourth? Index wasn't sure. She couldn't've consumed more than five glasses worth.

Qoozle Watch's mobile app loaded, in all of its glory. Its background was white, while the rest of the app's user interface was purple; the same shade of purple as the loading bar had been. At the top of the screen, there was a purple bar, which ran from one side of Last Order's tablet's screen to the other. There were numerous tabs.

Separated from one another by small indents, there were a total of six different tabs; "TRENDING", "WHAT'S NEW", "STAR SELECTIONS", "HONORABLE MENTIONS", "QOOZLE WATCH TERMS OF SERVICE", and, finally, there was the "PRIVACY" tab. Each tab was identified by the white, bubbly text that was in the center of each. Tapping on any one of these tabs would produce a drop-down menu, from which more options could be explored.

Tapping on the third tab, Index was greeted with the "Star Selections" that Qoozle Watch had on offer; one "content creator" was hosting a stream in which they were creating "High Art" out of their own hardened feces. Index quickly scrolled past it, and to the next, who was hosting a "rant stream". Index couldn't care less what the "content creator" had on their mind, or what they were so uptight about.

The third most popular stream being hosted in Qoozle Watch's "Star Selections" tab hadn't even had a semi-professional logo placed; the stream's "logo" (Index felt that it could hardly be called that) was nothing more than a poor quality photo of a man's face. Index shuddered, as did Last Order, next to her; it seemed to snap the clone of Misaka Mikoto out of her intoxicated trance. Removing her hat, and her sunglasses, Last Order tossed them both onto her bed, and, wrapping an arm around the nun's shoulders, Last Order, too, began to examine the man's face.

He was wearing a hot pink beanie, which had an odd symbol in its center. The odd symbol might've had some sort of significance, but, the two young women couldn't possibly begin to try and discern its meaning; it was made up of three triangles. Two on the bottom, one on the top. All three of the shapes met at their respective points. Over the odd symbol, there was a bright red circle, with a line that ran diagonally through it. Apparently, this fellow wasn't fond of triangles.

Of North American descent, this man had pointy facial hair, which wouldn't have looked out of place on the jovial face of a garden gnome. It hung from his cheeks, and from his chin. His upper lip, too, had been consumed by the dark, ash-colored facial hair. His eyebrows were bushy, his eyes dark brown in coloration. His nose was of average size, and appeared to be scrunched up, as if in repulse, despite the fact that his facial expression portrayed no such emotion. His lips were pursed, straightened, into a look of complete neutrality. The man's cheeks were covered in messy strands of facial hair. His brow was wrinkled, quite severely so; it was an odd sight. The man's forehead looked older, somehow, than the rest of his face.

"You ready? This could be really, really cringey. In fact, I can promise this will be cringey," Index warned, wagging a finger in Last Order's direction. "LeekMan's terrible streams are nothing to be taken lightly!"

"MISAKA thinks she's ready, MISAKA MISAKA says, hoping that her inner turmoil isn't leaking out into her spoken words," Last Order remarked.

Index hovered the index finger of her right hand over the image of the man's face, for a moment. A determined facial expression crossed her face, as Index pressed her finger down onto the tempered glass screen of Index's tablet. Instantaneously, the screen faded to white, and a small, spinning circle appeared. Spinning clockwise, the glowing, purple circle occasionally produced a burst of color from its center. Orange hues, blues, greens, reds, and yellows were among the globs that were produced.

For a split second, the nun, and the clone of Misaka Mikoto believed that the app would crash; a part of both of them would've been grateful if it did. They were met with no such luck, however; the tempered glass touchscreen of Last Order's tablet faded from white, to an empty room. In the stream's chat, a small, white box which sat in the left hand corner of the stream, text, and little yellow smiley faces, with a wide array of facial expressions zoomed by, at speeds that neither Index nor Last Order could comprehend.

Index placed the tablet down on Last Order's desk, and placed a hand to her chin, the index finger and thumb of her hand caressing the protrusion. Like Index, Last Order looked down at the tablet.

"MISAKA can't see anything; maybe we should turn up the brightness? MISAKA MISAKA suggests, hoping that the stream isn't going to be one of those wretched screamers," Last Order suggested, as she placed the palms of her hands against the surface of her desk, and tilted her head to one side. Her hair, still tied up into a bun, flopped to the side as Last Order tilted her neck.

"If it's a screamer, I'll actually flame this goofball in the chat," Index snarled, silver eyebrows arching, as she scrunched her nose. "I'm gonna do that, then, I'm gonna grab another drink, eheheheheheheh… you want more, cutie?"

Last Order giggled, her face growing even redder, as she shook her head. "MISAKA is good for the night, and probably for the next week… you're a regular party girl, MISAKA MISAKA admits, knowing that she's a filthy lightweight."

"No shame, Last Order; I'm a lightweight, too. I don't know how much I've had, exactly, but it can't be that much, and I'm frrriiieeeddddd. Touma and Misaki are going to be wigging out. Oh well," Index muttered, hiccupping between words, as she turned up the tablet's brightness. "No big panic. They'll do the do and forget about it before long. Horndogs. Works out for me, though!"

Index stepped out of Last Order's room; Last Order herself peered down at her tablet's screen. She heard Index stumble, and curse aloud, causing her to begin to giggle; Index's own giggling wasn't far behind Last Order's.

On the screen of Last Order's tablet, the empty room's lighting was dull, and dirty. It looked like it was illuminated only by a half-functioning ceiling lamp. Last Order could make out wooden panelling, along the singular wall that the low quality camera was filming; covered in dust, they looked like they hadn't been cleaned, or even had proper maintenance performed on them in months, if not years.

Last Order could see small holes in the panelling, and, emerging from said holes, Last Order could see insects. Little specks, that were just a shade or two darker than the walls themselves. The clone shuddered, as she continued to look down at her tablet's screen, morbid curiosity peaked.

In front of the wall, there was a futon; it certainly wasn't a bed, and it didn't have that distinctive "couch look" to it; Last Order's guardian certainly spent enough time on their home's couch for the clone to know what a distinctive "couch look" truly was. The futon was dark green in coloration, and torn in some places; in these tears, dirtied, white wads of cotton emerged. The cotton protrusions were plastered in brown stains. Its sheets were rippled, dirtied, and looked like they hadn't been cleaned in months, if not years.

Above the couch, there were a number of shelves, that were mounted to the wall. On them, were rows of toys. Children's toys. They didn't even look like the types of toys that someone who collected such things as a hobby would have. Rubber ducks, with mould growing upon them, little nutcrackers, splintered, their jaws broken, small, worn-looking rubbery toy cars, which, like their duck-shaped counterparts, looked to have long ago become colonized by black mould, and, most unsettling of all, to Last Order, was a doll, that was vaguely shaped like a human infant. Its eyes were glossy, glowing beneath the dull light provided by the ceiling. The doll's "skin" was pale, and faded, looking almost sickly.

Last Order suddenly jumped, as someone, an actual human being, came into view. He stumbled in from the left side of the camera, and, shaking slightly, sat himself down on the futon; something crinkled beneath his posterior.

"Has he started streaming yet? Is he streaming? I hope he's streaming! I'm going to be legitimately mad, if he doesn't stream today, of all the days," Index ranted, as she stumbled, almost as awkwardly as the man on Last Order's tablet's screen. Her face was bright red, and her grin had grown even wider, as she took a sip of her drink. "My girl, baby, bombshell, booty-shaking Queen! Is LeekMan streaming?"

"He is, but he's just staring into the camera, MISAKA MISAKA explains, finding herself feeling oddly hypnotized by the strange, wide eyes of LeekMan," Last Order mumbled in response. She sounded tired; Index felt like she was beginning to sober up, just a bit. Where was the normally energetic and peppy Last Order that Index knew and platonically loved?

As Index placed her glass down on Last Order's desk, the streamer, who was staring into the camera from which he was broadcasting, began to speak. His eyes were wide, full of what Last Order recognized to be paranoia. They darted from side to side, in his head, as he spoke. LeekMan looked worse than usual; Index hadn't thought that such a thing was possible. He spoke with a terrible stutter. The nun took to Last Order's side, and wrapping her arms around her friend, Index warmly, lovingly nuzzled her.

He spoke in English. At the bottom of his stream, there were a number of subtitles, each in different dialects. Japanese, Spanish, and a strange, almost runic language that Last Order didn't recognize; Index was too busy feeling her friend up to even pay attention to the stream.

"H-hello… w-world… I-I… mean, LeekMan N-Nation… I-I'm your h-h…. h-host, LeekMan, a-and… L-let's get r-r… r-right into… w-what's g-go…. Going on…"

Last Order's eyes had locked with the eyes of the man on her tablet's screen. Somehow, they widened even more; she thought that LeekMan's eyelids were going to be torn open. Last Order could almost see the tops of his eyes.

LeekMan began to speak. Fluently, softly, almost meekly. His stutter was suddenly absent. He almost seemed robotic. His shaking had stopped. Last Order backed away, slightly, intimidating. LeekMan was staring into his camera, not blinking, not swallowing.

"They're here, LeekMan Nation. I know they're here. I knew they'd find me, someday, but… I wish I could've been able to keep them off my trail for a few days longer. There're things that I need to share with you, Nation, but, I can't, now; they're tapping this stream. They've been tapping all of my social media posts. They've all taken longer than usual to go up. All of my posts are being scanned through lizard banker technology, far beyond any technology that even Academy City has.

"At night, Nation, I've seen them in my windows at night, looking in. The lizard bankers, Nation, they're planning on making their move. I know it. No one is safe. This is the last broadcast I'm going to be able to get out, for a while. I need to run; far, far away from here. They're trying to silence the truth. If I stay here, Nation, they're going to kill me.

"The lizard bankers have people everywhere. Canada, the UK, right here, in our beautiful United States of America… they're trying… to take our guns. Trying to disarm us, so we can't fight back against them. They're in Japan, probably in Academy City, China, Africa. They're everywhere, Nation. Your own family could be lizard bankers, and you won't be the wiser, until they shapeshift, take your guns, and kill you with them. Run, Nation. RUN!"

The stream cut, as LeekMan reached out towards the camera. On the blank, black screen, where LeekMan's stream had once been broadcasted, there was only scrolling, white text, which read, "this content creator is offline."

"What the… what the fuck was that, even? LeekMan's gone off the deep end," Index muttered, between hiccups. "You have nice hips, Last Order. We need to go tear up the floor, one day. Can you shake these things? I bet you'd have every boy on the floor drooling for that booty. We'd have to bring Accelerator, and stuff him off in a corner. I want to see his reaction to seeing his little girl being sized up."

"MISAKA doesn't know; MISAKA thinks that LeekMan has finally gone over the edge. MISAKA's kind of worried about LeekMan, MISAKA MISAKA admits, hoping that her fairly obvious state of unease gets through to her intoxicated friend," Last Order remarked, ignoring Index's drunken, sexually-charged ramblings.

Index ceased her stroking; removing her hands from Last Order's hips, the nun placed the palms of her hands against either of Last Order's cheeks, and looked into her eyes.

"LeekMan's a nutter, babe. Remember last week? Princess Carissa was a lizard alien from the planet Reptilicus, who was going to instill the New World Order and force us all into slavery. She was also going to "take our guns", and give them to the New World Order's celebrity slaves. Never happened! Nothing he ever says happens, babe!" Index exclaimed.

Last Order sat herself down on her bed. Index, stumbling, followed, and tossed herself back onto the bed. Giggling loudly, and jovially, Index let herself fall into the bed. Last Order smiled at her friend; at least Index was a happy drunk.

"MISAKA isn't worried about that; MISAKA has enough sense to know that LeekMan's just paranoid. MISAKA is worried about LeekMan's health. What if he tries to hurt himself, or someone else, thinking they're a lizard banker, MISAKA MISAKA rhetorically asks, not expecting her friend to have all of the answers."

"Oohh," Index mumbled. "Yeah, I get it now. I think he's pretty harmless, babe. He'll probably just run into the woods for a couple days and make a shelter out of sticks and mud, or something. He'll come back once his Qoozle ad revenue starts running dry, to be honest. I guess the lizard people don't go in the woods."

Last Order couldn't stifle the giggle that emerged from her lips; Index's delivery was so serious. The nun's facial expression was one of neutrality; she didn't appear to be exaggerating her explanation at all. There was no sarcasm that Last Order could detect in her friend's words.

"It's not that, Index… MISAKA guesses that MISAKA is feeling guilty about always laughing at him. MISAKA thinks that, maybe, LeekMan's sick and needs help. Everyone laughs at him, and makes fun of him, but, what he says might not be his fault, you know? MISAKA MISAKA asks, hoping to hear words of encouragement from her friend."

Index produced a soft, drawn-out sigh. Rolling over onto her belly, Index began to slowly kick her legs back and forth, as she held her chin up with her hands. The nun shook her head, as if she was dealing with a wayward child.

"Babe, even if that's the case, it's not like there's anything we can do. Just take it for what it is; LeekMan's a nutter, and he's funny. It's not like we're in the chat, egging him on. We're just watching. If he does anything to himself, or to anyone else, there's nothing anyone can do. He's in another country. If he's ill, it's up to his family to have someone taking care of him."

"MISAKA's going to have a sip of your drink, before MISAKA goes to get her own, MISAKA MISAKA states, assuming her friend won't mind," Last Order spoke. Index shrugged, as she continued to kick her legs.

"Be my guest, babe," Index responded. "Get yourself turnt. We'll go downstairs, and have a party. Shrug off all those emotions for a few hours!"

Rising up from the bed, Last Order meandered over to her desk; Last Order placed Index's glass to her lips, and tilted her head back. Last Order proceeded to drink the entirety of the contents within Index's glass. Though she made much slower work of the yellow substance, Index was still impressed by her friend's tenacity, as she watched on.

"That's rough; how much vodka did you put in, MISAKA MISAKA inquires, already feeling quite tipsy from the ingestion of her friend's drink," Last Order remarked, placing the glass back down onto her glass.

"Only a little bit, but, honestly, it's enough to get both of us trashed," Index giggled. "We're both fucking delinquents. I should call Kanzaki-Sama. We could definitely tease the shit out of her."

"Index, Kanzaki-san is such a nice lady, though, MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, attempting to defend Kanzaki-san from the impish antics of her friend!" Last Order protested. Leaping onto the bed Last Order found herself mounting Index, and sitting atop her back. Last Order and Index both giggled, as Last Order set her Gekota hat on Index's head.

"P.I.M.P," Index spoke, turning the hat backwards. Gekota's happy, smiling face was visible to Last Order, who swooned at the sight of the green mascot. Clearing her throat, Index scrunched her nose, and her brow furrowed. She tried her best to mimic Touma's deep voice.

"Speaking of P.I. … I'm Kamijou Touma, and I'm the Harem King. I save girls, so they'll jump on my monumental dick. I'm a regular P.I.M.P. I'll shatter that there illusion of yers! Give me yer wives and girlfriends!"

Last Order, despite herself broke down laughing; Index soon joined her friend, as she buried her face in Last Order's comforter.

"Index… that's so mean! First Savior isn't like that! MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, coming to First Savior's defense, and, subsequently, to Second Savior's defense, as well!" Last Order said, struggling to get a word in edgewise, between her giggles.

"I know Touma's not like that, but it's still funny. Relax! We're just playing around. You want me to do Misaki, too? I can do Misaki. I can't really make fun of Misaki, as she is now, but I can make fun of Tokiwadai Misaki," Index explained. Last Order nodded, as her giggling turned to full-on laughter; the clone of Misaka Mikoto was in a state of excitement. The alcohol was hitting her again.

Index, pulling herself up from under Last Order, shook her head from side to side, causing her long, silver hair to flutter. Last Order watched Index's hair flow, and was almost hypnotized by it. It was so beautiful, so long. Last Order found herself feeling glad that Index had seemingly stopped wearing the headpiece of her Walking Church. Though Index's appearance wasn't marred by it, her full beauty was put on display when she didn't wear the headpiece.

Throwing her right arm out, Index raised her left, and spread her index, and middle fingers, lifting her thumb. Holding the index and middle fingers of her right hand over her eye, Index pressed an invisible button, on the invisible remote that she held.

"Hi! My name's Shokuhou Misaki, and, I think I'm all that. I'm hot stuff, and I've got nice tits, but I can't even run down the street without suffering a cardiac arrest! HNGG! I'm goin'! I'm goin!"

"INDEEEXXXX! MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, completely flabbergasted by her friend's offensive, but equally hilarious performance!" Last Order cried; she could hardly even laugh. Her laughter had become something resembling the sounds a seal would produce, while wandering about on a shore. Last Order clapped her hands, as she fell backwards, making a mess of her bed's pillow, and her comforter.

"I've got another one, hold it," Index remarked. The nun's facial expression turned to a scowl, as her eyes narrowed. Her eyebrows arched, as she fell into a hunch-like position. Holding her right arm outwards, her left arm would've been placed partway into the pocket of her Walking Church, if her Walking Church actually had a pocket. Last Order was crying from laughter; she knew who Index was mocking, before the nun even opened her mouth.

"Tch. My name's Accelerator. Tch. I'm the "top dog" of Academy City. Tch. I act like I'm this hard supervillain, constantly clicking my tongue at everything, and generally swearing way too much; what the world doesn't know is that I spend my spare time cuddling with my girls, like a big sissy boy. Tch."

"Do more, do more, MISAKA MISAKA cries out, demanding that her friend continues for her enjoyment!" Last Order managed to bark, after she took a series of deep breaths. Her giggling didn't stop there. At the very least, she'd managed to actually start laughing again; her silent "seal laughter" had almost been painful. Last Order had felt like a part of her chest would've been torn, if she'd continued.

"Alright, okay… I'm enjoying this too; this is really fun!" Index remarked; her vocalization had come out a bit louder than she'd intended for it to. Index was just glad that Last Order seemed to be happy, again. During the moment in which she'd spoken of her concern for that conspiracy maniac, LeekMan, she sounded almost downtrodden. It made the intoxicated Index's heart ache.

"I've got one. I don't really know him that well, but I'll try it out anyways. No harm, right?" Index stated. Clearing her throat, Kamijou Index gave her body a shake, as if she was "resetting" herself back to her "default" position. Index struggled to beat back a giggle, as she began to wring her hands.

"Eheheh. Guess who I am? I'm Aogami Pierce, and I'm a nasty pervert. I grope girls at concerts, and run away when they try to beat me up for it; I've never gotten laid, and I probably won't, ever, because I sit around and jack off all day. I also have every fetish, ever!"

Last Order's lips parted, before she raised her hands to them, in apparent shock. "RUDE! MISAKA MISAKA proclaims, regardless of the fact that she finds herself agreeing with her mocking of Aogami-san!"

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, babe. I'm having fun, too," Index spoke, as she awkwardly stumbled towards Last Order's desk. Wrapping her fingers around her glass, she moved for Last Order's glass, as well. "Last round, for me. I think I might puke, if I drink more than another glass of this stuff. Whose vodka are we even drinking? I don't think Accelerator drinks."

"The inferior unit's, it has to be, MISAKA MISAKA explains, knowing that no one else in the family drinks the way that the inferior unit does," Last Order stated, with a shrug.

Index's face became slightly redder, as she awkwardly chuckled. Stumbling, again, she left Last Order's glass alone; apparently, Last Order was done. Index wouldn't be far behind her. "I hope Worst doesn't mind. I can buy her a new bottle. I guess we didn't really think this through, did we?"

Rising up, Last Order nearly tripped over her own feet. She stretched, pushing her bosom, and midsection outwards, as she groaned in pleasure. "The inferior unit won't care; the inferior unit will just bug Accelerator to get her more, MISAKA MISAKA says, attempting to explain the lay of the land to her friend."

"Yeah," Index responded, with a yawn. The loud, extended vocalization caused Last Order to giggle. "Oh, gosh. Yeah, I'm done, after this glass. Good thing I don't get hangovers, or I'd be hating myself tomorrow morning. You think you're going to be good? We have something planned, sort of, with Hyouka, after all."

With a nod, Last Order closed her eyes, and smiled widely. "MISAKA will be fine! Definitely good enough to make good on her plans with you and Kazakiri-san, MISAKA MISAKA remarks, hoping to assure her friend that MISAKA will be ready and roaring to go, tomorrow!"

"That's my girl," Index praised. "I'll be back," the nun said seriously, slowly, and with a thick, feigned accent.

October 9th, 2014. 6:46 PM.

The door to the home of Accelerator, Last Order, and Misaka Worst opened; two individuals entered. One was stumbling, slightly, and cackling loudly, while the other appeared to be stone cold sober. Closing the door to the residence behind her, and securely locking it, Misaka Worst gave Yamashita Junichi a playful shove.

"That was great, minion! Your boys are great. We need to hit the clubs, sometime. You should come, too, minion; Misaka wants to get you drunk and watch you stutter," Worst stated, as she hobbled into the living room. "It appears that tou-san isn't home yet; we're in luck. Let's fuck, minion."

"No?" Yamashita Junichi grumbled.

"Good minion." Worst nodded her head proudly. "That was a test. You passed. Let's go to Misaka's room, and get into some nasty shit. Misaka has a whole pile of gore sites on the dark web that she's been dying to explore."

"NO?" Yamashita Junichi spoke, just a little bit louder, as he took Worst's arm into his own. She was having a difficult time standing up, as she hobbled towards the staircase. Junichi removed his trainers, unlike Worst, who'd neglected to remove her own. "I don't feel getting arrested. Again."

"Oouuhh," Worst vocalized, her face red. A sly, almost sinister grin was spread across Worst's face. "Misaka's minion is a sexy prison boy. Misaka's little vandal."

"Oh, yeah, such a badass. Spray-painting "Anti Skill Sux" behind a grocery store. Woo, I'm a real rebel," Junichi spat, chuckling; he'd always enjoyed being able to make fun of himself. He'd been young then. Stupid.

"The message wasn't incorrect," Worst responded. "Anti Skill are a regular drag. They always fucked with Misaka, whenever she was just trying to have a little fun."

"Yo, Worst. Your sister's friend," Junichi pointed out.

Indeed; a stumbling, giggling, red-faced Kamijou Index had emerged from Last Order's room, and had taken a few steps down the staircase.

"Oh!" Index exclaimed; she started, slightly. A sober Junichi could tell that she hadn't expected to see them; the pyrokinesist could practically smell the scent of the vodka, emanating from the nun. "H-hey, Worst, Worst's friend! Forgetting your name… I know it, though. I know I know it…"

"Yamashita," Junichi spoke, helping the intoxicated nun out. "It's nice to see you, Index. How are things? Well, I mean, aside from the fact that you're totally smashed. It's cool, though. Worst is smashed too."

"Misaka's just tipsy, minion," Worst corrected, with a huff.

"Yeah, we got into your vodka, Worst… sorry! We partied hard, man! WOO! Haven't gotten trashed like this since last summer, barbeque at the Hamazuras'. Fireworks, everything. Crazy stuff. You two should've been there. Aogami fainted, fell in the pool, when he saw us in swimsuits. We need to do that again sometime… sorry! Wow, tangent, much?" Index rambled; she nearly fell down the stairs, just as she finished her long, only vaguely coherent speech. Junichi opened his arms, ready to catch the intoxicated nun, but, she'd managed to steady herself.

"Misaka can just show tou-san her tits, and he'll buy her more," Worst explained; her lips curled into a malevolent grin, as she winked in Index's direction. "Hope you got up to something that would make Misaka proud to call you friend."

"Come on, you goddamn devil," Junichi jokingly scolded. "Take it easy, Index."

"YEAH! Y-you too, Yamashita-san!" The nun replied; again, her vocalization was louder than she'd intended. The pyrokinesist, and the younger, but physically older clone of Misaka Mikoto passed the nun by.

The duo climbed the stairs, and closed the metallic door to Worst's room behind them; Worst quickly tossed herself down onto her bed, as she produced a loud, but short, contented sigh. The clone of Misaka Mikoto spread her arms out, as if she was about to make a snow angel, or, in this case a bed comforter angel. Looking up to the ceiling, Worst hiccupped awkwardly. "Misaka's glad to be home. Your place is cool, and your friends are cool, too, but, in the end, there's only one place for Misaka."

Sitting himself down on the chair that sat, tucked in, in front of Worst's computer desk, he turned away from Worst, and turned on her tower, with the press of the power button. The tower produced a series of beeps, before it began to whirr to life.

"There's a hot girl, laying on the bed, tired out, completely unable to fight against her single and ready to mingle minion, and yet, here you are, fucking around on Misaka's computer. Silly minion. Come here," Worst commanded.

"Another test? Funny," Junichi remarked simply. Typing the computer's password – IWANTTOUSANSDICK666 into the required field, and shuddering only slightly, the pyrokinesist logged into the computer. The membrane keyboard's keys, crunching beneath his fingers, felt odd, to the pyrokinesist; he was used to the mechanical, blue switch keys of his own computer's keyboard. "I know you're just fucking around. Even if you weren't, there's no way I'd do that. Forget it."

Worst grinned. She was going to enjoy this. Her eyelids narrowed, as she licked her lips. At least until her beloved tou-san returned home, Misaka Worst would have a temporary replacement. Sly, and cunning, as ever, Worst moaned, quietly; the sound was a seductive one, full of primal desire. "Come to Misaka, minion. Misaka just wants to cuddle with you."

"You're such a pain when you're drunk." Yamashita Junichi produced an audible sigh; if he was a character in some sort of anime, he would've sweatdropped, at this point. "Worst. No. You need to take a nap. You're trashed."

"Ouh! Misaka's minion wants to plow Misaka while she's sleeping! If you fuck Misaka gently enough, she won't wake up, and then you can cum in Misaka, and she won't know the difference! Misaka has you all figured out, minion!"

"Oh, yeah, you've caught me red-handed," the pyrokinesist remarked, nonchalantly. Browsing through his notifications on the vogue social media platform, "ConnectWith", Junichi had a few new notifications. Nothing important; status updates from family, and friends who he didn't regularly engage in conversation with, virtually, or in person.

One of his old high school friends had sent him a request to help "grow their farm". Nearly snarling, Junichi had to remind himself that this computer didn't belong to him, as he unclenched his fist. "If there's anything more annoying than drunk Worst, it's got to be goddamn, fucking, VirtuoFarm. Fuck right off with your shit. Who plays ConnectWith games anymore? It's old news. Get a job or something."

Worst apparently decided to step up her game. Yamashita Junichi felt, rather than saw, two fleshy, soft growths press against the back of his neck. Their warmth alone told Junichi that Worst was rubbing her bosom against him. Worst's arms wrapped around his upper torso, as she stumbled, awkwardly, to the side, just barely able to keep herself standing.

As always, the pyrokinesist didn't awkwardly blush, like the protagonist of some harem anime. He didn't harbor any sort of lustful thoughts; Yamashita Junichi was simply annoyed. Worst was a young woman, attractive in her own way, but, that's all she was. A young woman who happened to be friends with the pyrokinesist, due to a certain series of circumstances which Junichi found to be entertaining.

"You're no fun, minion. Misaka's just trying to have a good time, and you're ignoring her. Miinniioonnnnn, come onnnnnn. Fuck Misaka, at least until tou-san gets home. Misaka's into all sorts of naughty things that you might find turn you on."

Yamashita Junichi grumbled under his breath, lips curling into a frown of irritation, certainly not for the last time, as he opened a new tab, in Worst's computer's internet browser. Even as the drunken Worst began to softly kiss the back of the pyrokinesist's head, he simply paid her no attention; she'd eventually go away, and take the nap she desperately needed, and shrug off her intoxicated state. Junichi supposed it was his fault; he was the one who'd let her drink, after all.

"Please just cuddle with Misaka. Misaka's drunk, and desperate. Tou-san's not here. Misaka's lonely as fuck."

"What, now?"

Yamashita Junichi had turned his head around, with a barely-audible, wordless complaint. Having stepped away from the pyrokinesist, Misaka Worst awkwardly stumbled about, barely able to stand straight, on her own two feet. "I'm putting you to bed. Nap time. No funny business."

"Come to bed with Misaka?"

"No. You're drunk."

"Please?"

"No. You. Are. Drunk. I'm not doing something I know I'd regret."

"Just lay on the outside of the sheet then, stupid minion. Misaka just wants a hug. Comfort."

The pyrokinesist produced a sigh, as he shook his head, and then closed the distance between himself and the nefarious clone of Misaka Mikoto; except, she looked less nefarious, and more, as she'd stated, desperate.

October 9th, 2014. 7:02 PM.

On the third floor of "Pan's Pancake Palace", Hamazura Fremea, and Hamazura Daichi sat, side by side, in their respective seats. Around the siblings, there were many young women, each enjoying their respective plate of pancakes; some had stacked their plates high, while others had only taken two or three individual pancakes. Some plastered their pancakes with syrup, while others had only taken a few droplets.

Sitting in a bright green, plastic booster seat, as he wasn't quite tall enough to reach the table without it, Hamazura Daichi turned his attention to Fremea, who was speaking with one of her friends. Patiently, the boy waited for Fremea to be done with her conversation. He didn't tap her on the shoulder, or repeatedly call out her name. The boy simply waited his turn, as he'd always been taught to do by his parents, and by his elder sister.

The third floor, like the second floor below it, and, presumably, like the fourth floor above it, had been constructed with attention to detail in mind. "Pan's Pancake Palace" was constructed to resemble a great tree on the outside. Its interior was designed to resemble what the architects who constructed the "Pancake Palace" thought the inside of a hollow tree must've looked like.

The floor was not a simple singular color; rather, it was made up of a series of tiles, that'd been painted to resemble tree bark, while the walls had been painted to look the same. Periodically spaced out between one another, there were windows; circular, they almost looked like the portholes that a ship, or an airplane would have. In the center of the floor, there was what looked like the trunk of a great tree; it was clear enough to see that it wasn't made up of actual tree bark, however, the coat of paint that'd been applied to the great pillar was quite convincing.

On each of the tree-pillar's faces, there was a flat screen television; no special paint, or other effects had been applied to it. Wide, and black, the television that Hamazura Daichi's attention had been caught by was showing some type of nature documentary, with soft, clear narration provided by a Japanese-speaking narrator.

The tables, including the table which Hamazura Daichi, Hamazura Fremea, and Fremea's friends sat around were crafted of wood, and cut into a square shape. The tables were not only painted to look as if they, too, were some outgrowth, but, their surfaces' textures were quite bumpy to the touch. The natural wood that the tables were made of helped to enforce the feeling that the tables were, indeed, natural outgrowths.

The chairs, which "Pan's Pancake Palace's" diners sat upon weren't traditional "chairs" at all; they were shaped like mushrooms. The mushroom chairs' caps were many different colors; hues of blue, shades of red, deep purples, and light purples alike adorned the chairs' caps.

"So, Fremea… you're not lying to me, are you?" Hamazura Fremea's conversational partner inquired, with a smug, almost victorious-looking grin on her face. "You sure you're not running off in the night to go see prince charming?"

Hamazura Fremea turned away, slightly, blushing; her cheeks had lit up, glowing bright pink, and her eyes had narrowed; she almost looked embarrassed. Before Fremea, her long-time friend, Hamasaki Ayaka continued to shoot her a look of feigned superiority. Shoulder-length, straightened dark hair fell just below her shoulders, its tips running along her upper back. Her hair's fringe was pulled above her forehead, close to the crown of her head, and was held in place by a golden headband. This hairstyle succeeded in exposing her forehead.

Ayaka's eyes' irises were hazel in coloration. Her skin was gorgeously tanned a shade of light brown, her lips pink, almost lavender in coloration, due to the lip gloss that'd been applied to them. Her eyebrows were thin, but obviously natural; if she'd somehow managed to draw them on, she must've used some sort of magically-enhanced brush, to do so.

Clad in a bright red sundress, which was dotted with a bright yellow floral pattern, from its top to its bottom, Fremea had to admit that Ayaka had blossomed into quite the beauty; long gone was the short, acne-ridden, awkward, stuttering girl that Fremea had first met as a freshman in Nagatenjouki Academy.

Hamasaki Ayaka knew Hamazura Fremea well enough; she'd been her friend since their respective freshmen years, after all. The blonde, beret-wearing cutie was hiding something, and Ayaka knew it. There was something going on between the blonde-haired, blue-eyed vixen and her "boy friend; my friend who's just a boy!"

"I-it's nothing like that! Plus, you know I w-wouldn't sneak out at night! My parents would worry too much," Fremea stated, crossing her arms beneath her bosom. That was another thing Fremea felt that Ayaka had over her; Ayaka's bosom was ample, far larger than Fremea's own. Plump, and round, Fremea was just a bit envious of it. "My dad would be out, driving around, with a megaphone or something."

Hamasaki Ayaka placed her index, and middle finger to her lips, as she giggled. Setting her fork down, she produced a soft "aww". "I can see that. Your dad's so crazy protective. It's nice, though. Better than having a deadbeat for a dad, right?"

"You bet," Fremea quickly agreed; the last thing she wanted anyone to think was that she didn't appreciate her father being so involved in her life. Enough girls had to suffer through that trauma; Fremea had no reason to try and pretend that she was a fatherless child, unlike some. "W-we're just friends, though, I swear. If we started seeing each other, you know, like that, I'd be a-afraid that something would happen, and that we w-wouldn't be able to salvage our friendship. You know? Girls and boys can be just friends."

Crossing one leg over the other, Ayaka stretched; Fremea's envy of her friend's bosom only grew. When Fremea stretched, she hardly looked like she had a bosom at all. "I don't know about that. I think you two are gravitating towards one another, whether you see it or not. You do know that you both look so cute together, right? You're natural couple material. All you need now is a cherry blossom tree, and a piece of toast hanging out of your mouth."

"Stoooop!" Fremea proclaimed, shaking her head, her blush deepening. "Stop, stop, stop. Enooouugghh. It's time to stop! You're not getting me into an arranged marriage!"

"Who said anything about marriage?" Ayaka joked, grinning at the perpetually-blushing Fremea. "You can have premarital sex, and become an evil sinner."

Fremea turned away, and, unconsciously mimicking her friend, crossed one leg over the other. Facing her younger brother, Fremea was very much in the mood for a more wholesome conversation.

"Fremmie!" Daichi exclaimed happily, smiling warmly. She'd turned her attention to him, therefore, he could talk. Right? It must've been his turn. Taking his sister's hands into his own considerably smaller hands, Daichi leaned forward; not enough to risk falling out of his booster seat, but, just enough to silently request a kiss.

Fremea, knowing what her little brother was looking for, placed a soft kiss on his forehead. The boy giggled, and blushed, his cheeks, and forehead glowing pink. "Yo, yo, whaddya know, bug boy. How're you feeling? Tired? After supper, we can go home, if you want. We've pretty much done everything we can do. Or, we can be bad, and stay out past your bedtime. Big sister will take the heat for you."

"Tired. Kind of. Good though! Fremmie, can I get something, please?" Daichi inquired. Fremea nearly overflowed with the desire to simply embrace the boy; his cute, naturally puffy cheeks were just to pinchable.

"Nope," Fremea giggled. She wanted to see what would happen.

With a shrug, Hamazura Daichi's smile never faded. He simply closed his eyes, and tilted his head to one side; just because he asked for something, that didn't mean he was going to get it, and that was okay. That was just how things worked. Sometimes, things happened. He knew he'd get it eventually; if not, he had plenty of toys. Captain Snipper and Manta Ray Manny still had to engage in their ultimate battle, anyways. He wouldn't need new toys for a while. "Okay. Maybe next time!"

Fremea broke. Her lips curled into a grin, as she felt the desire to smooch her little brother's face off. "I was kidding, you little dork!" she exclaimed, taking her little brother into an embrace; uncrossing her legs, Fremea sat him on her lap, and wrapped her arms around him. Daichi affectionately returned the embrace. "I was just kidding. What do you want? Did you see something in the gift shop? You're always such a good boy. You deserve it. Just tell your big sister what you want, and she'll get it for you, okay?"

Hamasaki Ayaka watched on, smiling warmly, as did the other girls who were seated at the table; those that weren't caught up in their own respective conversations, at least. They were talking amongst themselves. Those who weren't were obviously smitten by the display of affection between Fremea and her younger, adoptive brother, Daichi. Ayaka watched, as Daichi began to gently play with his sister's long, curly locks; not tugging on them, or trying to annoy his sister. He was just enjoying himself, making sure not to hurt his sibling. Was this even a real child? "Fremea's parents are so lucky. Most children are monsters. Daichi's such a good little boy. I guess it all comes down to parenting, doesn't it? Unlike everyone else, Fremea's parents obviously know what they're doing."

"Cute sea turtle," Daichi responded, excitedly. "Not a real one! They have to stay here! In the water! That's their home. A stuffed one. He was green, and fluffy, and had big, blue eyes, and a brown shell!"

Fremea, placing a kiss on the top of her brother's head, held him just a bit tighter; the boy produced a soft, pleased vocalization. Hamazura Fremea's heart skipped a beat. She loved him so much. He was everything to her, her little, dependant baby brother. He was everything she could ever want. He was respectful, well-behaved, understanding, and almost nothing like the stereotypical "bratty little brother" archetype she'd been afraid to end up with five years ago. She couldn't even recall a time in which she'd really quarrelled with him; play fighting didn't count.

"I'll buy you the sea turtle, bug boy. You can just show him to me, and then I'll make him yours," Fremea spoke, after she'd emerged from her musings.

Turning himself around, Daichi wrapped his little arms around his sister's waist as best as he could; nuzzling her with his face, he exclaimed, "Fremmie! Thanks! I love you!"

Fremea ran her fingers along her the back of her little brother's head, she felt her eyes becoming moist. She loved it when he told her that he loved her. "Fremmie loves you too, bug boy. More than you'll ever know. If you ever need anything, or want anything, you just tell Fremmie. She'll be right here to make sure everything is okay for you. Fremmie loves you too, so much."

"He's the sweetest little thing, oh my God," Ayaka whispered into her friend's ear. "I just want to cuddle him up. Can I have him, Fremea? Please?"

"Mine," Fremea replied defensively; the other girls around the table giggled. "My little brother. Go get your own. Your parents are still young."

Tossing her head back, Hamasaki Ayaka began to laugh wildly; this was just like Fremea. She pulled no punches, held nothing back. Her humor was crude, and even sometimes morbid, if she really got into it; but this was what made Hamazura Fremea Hamazura Fremea.

"Hi, Ayaka!" Daichi exclaimed happily, still being held by his elder sister; after placing a kiss on the tip of her nose, causing the blonde, beret-wearing girl to blush, the boy turned his attention to his sister's friend. "You're really pretty today! But you're pretty every day too. How are you?"

Ayaka's laughter ceased almost immediately. Her face broke into a deep, full, crimson blush, as she looked into the eyes of the Hamazuras' firstborn. That smile never left his face, did it? "AWWWW! Daichi! Thank you! Polite little man. You're really handsome, especially today! I'm good, thank you for asking! How are you, you little prince?"

"Good," Hamazura Daichi responded, quite bluntly. "Little bit tired but I'm good."

"Just let me know when you're feeling like you want to go home, bug boy," Fremea stated, softly. "Like I said, we can go whenever you want to. I don't mind one bit."

Though it wasn't uncommon for the boy to show such concern for others, Daichi's words still brought gasps out from those around the group of girls who were listening, and from some of Fremea's friends themselves. "What do you want to do Fremmie? You need to be happy too. That's really important too!"

"Daichi?" Fremea inquired, continuing to stroke her little brother's hair with her fingers. Her voice dropped to a soft whisper. "I'm happy just being here with you. I'm happy when you're happy. It's going to be a little bit hard for you to understand, but, my life stopped being about me as soon as I welcomed you into the world. Even when you were born, you were smiling, blowing little bubbles up at mommy, and daddy, and your big sister. Not even a tear… you're a special boy. You've always been, you know that? Fremmie's special little brother. It's not just about me anymore. My life's about you, now, so much more than me."

"I know how she feels. I really do. Frenda… come home to us, someday. Please. Daichi wants to meet you so much. I want to meet you. The real you. I want to know who the rightful owner of this beret is."

Hamazura Daichi simply kept his arms wrapped around her, clinging to his older, adopted sister. He looked contented. At some point, during Fremea's whispering, the boy had fallen asleep. His lips, even in slumber, were curled into a happy little grin. "I love you, bug boy," Fremea whispered.

Hamazura Fremea felt a hand fall to her shoulder. Turning her attention to the young woman who was interacting with her, Fremea smiled. In return, Hamasaki Ayaka smiled back. "Aweh, poor little guy's tired. Look! He ate all his fruits and vegetables, too. He really is every parent's dream kid, huh?"

Indeed; next to Daichi's little, bright green plate, which only had a few scraps on it, there was a small, green bowl; scraps of various types of vegetables, and fruits remained behind. Strawberries, mostly, as well as tiny little scraps of darker green, which Fremea knew had once been spinach, one of Daichi's favorite vegetables. The entire bowl had been picked clean without hesitation.

"If only your parents had managed to keep you from turning out to be a delinquent child!" Ayaka added.

"You're a delinquent child," Fremea giggled in response; she knew there was no malice in Ayaka's words. "At least I don't puff on cancer sticks."

Hamasaki Ayaka shook her head, and then held it high. "I haven't smoked a single butt in over a year, I'll have you know."

With her younger brother still happily clinging to her, Hamazura Fremea picked her fork back up, and quickly stuffed the last of her pancakes into her mouth. Swiftly chewing, and then carefully swallowing, as not to choke, Fremea dusted her lips off with her napkin, followed by her hands. After cleaning the slumbering Daichi's hands, and lips, Fremea rose up from her seat, and hoisted him up. After placing a soft, quick kiss on his cheek, she turned to her companions.

"Hey, Ayaka, all of you guys… girls?" Fremea began. The individuals surrounding Fremea's table giggled, as did Ayaka, who winked at her friend. "Thanks for the great day out. I'm going to take the bug boy home, and, I'll probably have to get started on some studying. Probably going to be kind of busy tomorrow, but, next weekend, want to do something?"

"You can count me in!" A girl, one of Fremea's friends spoke. A ginger, she was of North American descent.

"You know I'll be there. Where are you going to be tomorrow? Hanging out with your "boy friend?" Ayaka teased, to which Fremea's facial expression twisted into one of feigned fury.

"Going to be chilling with people cooler than you, Ayaka," Fremea retorted. The black-haired girl placed the palms of her hands to her cheeks, and parted her lips.

"Nasty little delinquent child! You need to take lessons from Daichi. Seriously, though, you're welcome. We all love having both of you around. Come out more often, Fremea! We miss you!"

"I miss you guys, too. Here, I'll pitch in for the bill. I forgot. I'll just need to…"

"Nuh uh," Hamasaki Ayaka spoke, cutting Fremea off, before she could finish vocalizing her thought. "I've got it. Don't even get your panties in a knot; it probably won't be that expensive. Besides, you bought tickets for you and Daichi. Plus, if you're going to buy the little bum something, that'll probably set you back a couple million yen."

Fremea returned the warm smiles of those who sat around the table she'd been sitting at. Though some of these girls were simply friends of Ayaka, whom she didn't know particularly well, they were all sweet, and had welcomed her into their fold with open arms. Waving with her available wrist, Fremea hoisted the slumbering Daichi up just a little bit higher, and made her way towards the easternmost wall of the third floor of "Pan's Pancake Palace".

Passing by occupied tables, avoiding stray baby carriages (and making sure that she didn't bump Daichi against any of them, though, knowing him, he would've just laughed at her failure), Fremea approached a set of tall, rectangular door. Amongst the vaguely natural-looking scenery, the doors were an oddly synthetic, and sterile slap of reality. Cold, bright silver, and metallic, they took Fremea completely out of the fantasy-esque feeling that the restaurant had strived to achieve. After stepping forward, and pressing her finger against a small, square button of the same color as the metallic doors, which had a bright green, perpetually-flashing down arrow made up of small, bright green LEDs, Fremea stepped back.

Within a few minutes, the metallic doors split open, sliding into either side of the natural-looking, tree bark-decorated walls of "Pan's Pancake Palace's" third floor. A group, presumably a family of five – three children, an older-looking man, and a younger-looking woman stepped out. The older fellow, stern-faced, with a slightly receding hairline, gave Fremea an odd look. It almost resembled one of vague, passive-aggressive disapproval. But why? Raising an eyebrow in the older man's direction, Fremea stepped onto the elevator, passing by a couple of elderly men, who were also stepping out of the elevator, and out onto the third floor.

Then, Fremea understood; but why would he just assume? "He… or they? Think I'm a teen mother? Is that it? I'm just here with my little brother. Way to just take a stab in the dark. Even if I was a teen mother, whose business would be? Not yours."

The interior of the elevator car was about as fitting as the elevator car's doors; there was no sign of anything that looked like it was even close to natural. No tree bark motif, no painting of forest-dwelling wildlife, just cold-looking, reflective metal floors, and walls that were, in fact, great, full-body mirrors. Three of the elevator car's four walls were mirrors. The first wall was dark grey, in coloration, with a bright silver number pad on its surface. Beneath the number pad, was a large, red button. Above the red button, was a small, white blurb, containing text, which read "EMERGENCIES ONLY".

On the number pad, there were, predictably, a series of numbers – one through nine. Each number was lit by a series of bright, lime green LEDs, that looked to have been pre-installed inside of the pad. At the bottom of the pad, between the numbers seven and eight, was a long, numberless bar, which had the word "enter" on its surface. Like its numerical counterparts, the word "enter" was illuminated by a series of lime green LEDs.

Clicking the tip of her right hand's index finger's bright, yellow-painted fingernail against the "one" key, and then clicking the same fingernail against the "enter" key, Fremea stepped to the back of the elevator, and took a breath, trying to calm the disgust that was building in her heart. She turned her vision to the smiling Daichi. His arms had unconsciously gone around the back of her neck in his sleep. Looking at his face, at his closed eyes, his little, curled lips, Fremea felt her negativity subsiding. Not for the first time that day, Fremea placed a soft, gentle kiss on Daichi's forehead, and nuzzled her cheek against his own smaller cheek.

The elevator jerked to life, as it began to move downwards; at the very least, despite the fact that it stuck out like a sore thumb, Fremea had to admit that the ride was quite smooth. Aside from the fact that her body could clearly feel that the surface which she stood upon was moving, the trip wasn't an overtly bumpy, or thumping one.

The trip from the third, to the first floor wasn't a long one, by any stretch of the imagination. It took only twenty or thirty seconds, by Fremea's count. Once the elevator's doors opened, Fremea made her way out, with Daichi in tow. Maneuvering around groups of irate and confused individuals, who Fremea assumed were soon to become diners, the young woman headed for the front doors of "Pan's Pancake Palace". On her way out, Fremea passed by the "main man" himself. At least, one of them.

Fremea would've felt terrible for the poor individual who was trapped inside of the suit, if there actually was someone inside of said suit. Fremea had already seen the animatronics of "Pan's Pancake Palace" in action. They were inherently disgusting, inhuman, and mechanical in their movements. Fremea felt that they were downright terrifying, as did Daichi; therefore, Daichi was intrigued by them. Apparently, in the mind of the five-year-old bug boy, "terrifying" was synonymous with "cool".

"Ugh. Robot. Not the good kind, either. So. Damn. Creepy. Protectron, kill it, please? Wherever you are?"

"Pan's" head was large, and round, his big eyes looking like something from the pages of a manga. Compared to the rest of his body, "Pan's" head was too large. Tall, moose-like horns jutted from the crown of "Pan's" head, confusing Fremea. Weren't "Pan's" horns supposed to be those of a goat? At least, the animatronics creators seemed to have gotten "Pan's" legs right; they were clearly goat-like, curling backwards, ending in hooves. Fremea felt a shiver run down her spine, as the lower jaw of the animatronic clacked against its head.

"Thanks fer comin' to Pan's Pancake Palace! I'm hopin' ta see ya again soon!"

"Howdy! Welcome ta Pan's Pancake Palace; let's go on a journey together! Whaddya say?"

Fremea quickly hurried through the great, faux root-covered, tree bark-colored front doors of the "Pancake Palace", and breathed a sigh of relief. Freedom, at last.

Stepping away from the front doors of the "Pancake Palace", Fremea was bathed beneath the shadow of the structure. Shaped like a great tree, its roots snaked out along the light grey, cobbled walkways of the "Halls of the Feast" section of the Grand Kingdom. Most of the structure's branches, covered in enormous, bright green, solid-looking faux leaves pointed up, towards the sky, while some hung downwards, casting smaller, but longer shadows across the Grand Kingdom's "Halls of the Feast" section.

Fremea took a seat at one of the benches that surrounded the roots of "Pan's Pancake Palace". Crafted from the logs of actual trees, the benches looked bumpy; the specific bench that Fremea sat her posterior upon felt even bumpier than it looked. Still, it would do. Sitting Daichi down on her lap, and leaning her back against the bench's wooden backrest, Fremea produced her phone, and, unlocking the device, she navigated towards the "contacts" app, as passersby did what they did best; passed her by.

Pressing the tip of her finger down upon the contact listed as "mom", Fremea placed the device to her right ear, after she'd initiated a call. Daichi's sleeping form had leaned backwards, the back of his head pressed against her upper torso.

The phone on the other end rang, as evidenced by the repeated, low-pitched buzzes that Fremea's own phone produced, for a few seconds, before the buzzing ceased to be, and there was a short, quiet clicking sound.

Hamazura Rikou sounded like she was out of breath. Panting, furiously, she sounded like she was desperately trying to take oxygen into her lungs. "Am I going to get another sibling? You two need to hide your sexcapades better."

"Hello? Fremea? Is that you, preecciiooousssss? Or is this Daichi the Bum?"

"Prreecciiiooousssss! Give us the precciiooouusssss!" Fremea hissed. "Hi, mom. Is dad home? Daichi fell asleep, and I'm pretty tired too. We could use a ride."

"You don't think your mother can drive? Hm? I'll be right there. Dad and I were just… finishing up some chores, but, he can finish up on his own. RIGHT, DEAR?"

"Fuck-a-you, spaghettio!" Came Hamazura Shiage's reply; Hamazura Rikou began giggling into the phone, as Shiage's own hearty laughter could be heard. Fremea's heart soared.

"Mom's coming to get you two leeches. I can't wait to see you. When I got home from work, you were gone. I was pretty sad; mom had to, uh, comfort me," Shiage explained, barely able to reign in his chuckles.

"Ew," Fremea remarked. "Nasty, horny people. Love you, mom, dad. See you soon."

"Love you too, angel," Shiage spoke; his voice was gruff, and deep. Manly. Fremea heard his footsteps trailing away from the phone, before he broke into laughter again.

"What's so funny, mom?" Fremea inquired, genuinely curious.

Hamazura Rikou struggled to maintain control of her own giggling. "It's a long story. Dad told me about something that happened at work. You remember Stinky, don't you?"

"Could I forget? I don't think I want to know," Fremea quickly explained; Stinky was, well, stinky. Unkempt, unwashed, overweight. Quite the charmer. "I'll meet you at the entrance. I promised Daichi I was going to get him something from the gift shop, so, I'll have to head that way, anyways."

"Fremea," Rikou practically swooned. "You're so sweet to your brother. You're both the absolute best. Be seeing you, PRREECCIIOOOUSSSS!"

Apparently, Fremea's mother had thought that she'd ended the call; Fremea could still hear Rikou's soft, but stern voice, on the other end.

"What's this? Back on the floor with you. No, no. Get that back on. Go on, slip it back on. I'm not done with you, or that cock of yours. You're not jerking off. Why jerk off? That's what I'm here for. I'll help you finish. Cum for me, bunny-man."

"EWWW! HORNY, NASTY PEOPLE!" Fremea hissed, before she ended the call, and then pocketed her phone. Hamazura Fremea's parents certainly were unique individuals.


	14. Out Of Control

The final stretch of "the Enchanted Forest" had been left behind, by the Kamijous, Accelerator, and the tiny, former Magic God, Othinus, who remained perched atop the head of Academy City's "top dog".

Their short journey, through the Forest, had, up until this point, been a rather mundane one. Though the sights, and sounds of the Forest had been breathtaking, the quartet's conversations had come to a close, leaving relaxing, comfortable silence behind in their wake. Kamijou Misaki remained, contently laying back, relaxing, and enjoying the cool breeze that periodically washed over her form, held in the arms of her doting husband, who, like his wife, was having a time so grand, that it was beyond words. There was nothing more in the world that he wanted, than to know that his beloved was feeling happy, and fulfilled.

The two had been quite the sight to see, for passersby; it wasn't every day that the citizens of Academy City, and those who were visiting, rather than having any type of citizenship saw a man "princess carrying" a woman, after all. There was a collective agreement that the young, starry-eyed beauty seemed to be enjoying herself; surprisingly, the young man seemed to be enjoying himself, as well. Some sort of mutual agreement?

Aside from having Othinus occasionally jump on his head, or torment him, by picking up strands of his hair, and whipping them back and forth, Accelerator certainly wasn't having a bad time. If anything, this day was turning out to be one of his best; leave it to the Kamijous to make him all soft like this.

Othinus herself had been periodically pointed at, by joyous, awe-struck children, or adults, overwhelmed by the sight, which their minds registered as being "cute". Othinus certainly considered herself to be an attractive existence, but, cute? Not quite; cute wasn't what she was going for. Not intentionally, at least. She wanted to be attractive, not "cute". Apparently, that wasn't an option.

The ending of the trails that twisted, and snaked throughout "the Enchanted Forest" was in sight. The expanses of trees, shrubbery, and rolling hills came to a sudden halt. Great ramparts, made up of quartz-colored bricks, which practically glowed beneath the rays of the slowly setting sun, loomed over the trees, and over "the Enchanted Forest" itself. Atop the ramparts, there were large siege weapons, such as ballistae, which looked to have been forged from metallic beams, possibly steel, and, wooden catapults, their firing mechanisms nonexistent, therefore rendering the "weapons" harmless.

Halfway down the moist, muddy trail, which the quartet had been following, there was a path of light brown, almost chocolate-colored bricks, which formed a new path. Flanked by waist-high metallic fences on either side, the brick path, when compared with the moist, muddy trails that snaked throughout "the Enchanted Forest", was a sight for sore eyes, and a lovely change of scenery for dirtied, mud-plastered trainers.

"Looks like the ride's going to be over soon, beautiful," Touma remarked, in response to this change. "Would you like to leave us with some feedback? Any compliments, or complaints, would be highly appreciated! Your statement may be recorded, for quality assurance and training purposes. Thank you for choosing Kamijou Touma public transportation services. We hope you have a lovely day!"

"I am hanging up," Misaki stated, with a giggle. "Robo calls are the worst. You are not a robot, are you?"

"Beep boop beep," Touma responded, his body seizing up, as he began to walk, almost mechanically. His legs didn't bend, as they continued to move forwards; rather, they shuffled forwards, and backwards, while Touma continued to produce "electronic" sounds. "You will be eliminated, Samantha Conrad, beep boop."

"First Eliminator was better than the others," Accelerator spoke up. "Way more violence, nothing censored. Not like the ones they're pumping out these days. Fucking bullshit. I guess the last one was alright. More like the first. Jack Conrad being the antagonist was interesting."

"I'll return, soon," Touma said, stone-faced, as he stared outwards. He tried his best to stay stone-faced, at least; he quickly broke down laughing. Misaki had engaged him in something of a sudden staring contest; inevitably, as he always had, and likely always would, he lost.

"Why is it so hard for me to stare at you, when I'm trying not to laugh?" Touma rhetorically inquired. As he'd suspected, Misaki shrugged, in response, raising her honey-colored eyebrows. She didn't seem to have an answer, either.

"Only you have the answer to that question, my prince."

Kamijou Touma leaned in, and pressed his lips to his wife's right cheek, and then, to her left. The starry-eyed goddess, with the honey-colored hair smiled warmly, and contentedly, soaking up the affection, and the feelings that came along with said affection. "I think it might just be because you're really cute to look at. You have the softest skin, the nicest cheeks and lips, and you always smell so good. Like, even without perfume, you've always just got this really nice scent about you."

As Kamijou Misaki blushed, her recently-kissed cheeks glowing pink, Othinus rolled, back and forth, on top of the head of Academy City's "top dog".

"The time for the "mating ritual of Kami-yan" is nearly upon us, "number one". Are you prepared for whatever might happen?"

Accelerator scoffed. "I'm always fucking ready. For everything, and anything."

The former Magic God clung to a strand of Accelerator's hair, as she nearly fell from his head. Grasping onto another with her left hand, Othinus pulled herself back up to Accelerator's head, and then sat herself down, folding her legs inwards, hoping that Academy City's "top dog" hadn't seen her making a fool of herself. Her tiny heart was beating a mile a minute.

She felt like she was becoming smaller, and smaller, with every second that passed. With a determined huff, Othinus restrained her terror, and forcibly pushed it back, into the subconscious corridors of her mind, where decrepit skeletons lurched, and cobwebs dangled in every shadowy corner, waiting to be stumbled into.

"As am I, "number one". I wait with bated breath. If the two begin speaking at length about the possibility of a pregnancy, we may have a bit more than a hypothetical "what if?" to concern ourselves with. There's a lot of philosophy involved. Should a human child be doomed from the cradle? Does the Imagine Breaker bring doom, or is that merely how we interpret it?"

"I've got to say," Accelerator began, removing his hands from his pockets, and stretching them behind his head, "the hero's bad luck's kind of toned down. Has been since… I don't know what the fuck happened, but, about eight years ago, it just sort of fucked off. Kind of makes me wonder if something happened at all, or if it was just some sort of weird coincidence. Weird shit always happened to those goddamn heroes. I guess it still does. Better not to think too much about it. The shit that happens to the hero is confusing as fuck. Always has been."

Othinus' lips curled into a knowing grin; but, she kept her lips closed. "If they haven't told him, I won't, as fun as it would be to do so. Maybe, Touma's "bad luck" was ejected, along with his virginity. "Going out for a bite to eat". Nice try, humans. Nice try."

"Hm. Maybe," Othinus lied, attempting to keep her composure. "I can't say for certain, either." A part of her assumed that somehow, through some arcane, esper-related nonsense, Accelerator knew she was lying. He didn't give off any sort of "vibe" suggesting that he did, but, Accelerator was capable of strange things. Mind-reading wouldn't be beyond the man who could transcend his mortal constraints, and wield the power of Angels.

As the Kamijous stepped onto the light brown pathway, followed by Accelerator, and his golden-haired "passenger", Kamijou Touma set Kamijou Misaki down, carefully, flat on her feet. Misaki stretched, bending backwards, and then forwards, as quickly as she could, as not to get in the way of passersby. Touma felt no shame, as he watched his wife's bosom shift, slightly, as she performed her quick stretches. He felt no shame when she bent forward; he acted as a blockade for her, in fact, guarding her posterior from view. That was his, and his alone, to view, to engage in coitus with. All for him.

It was perfect. So plump, yet, so firm, so touchable. Kamijou Touma just wanted to pull his wife's rear to his crotch, and force her to grind against him, right there, and right then. Touma knew he couldn't do that, but, that was what he wanted to do. Of course, what Touma could do, and what he wanted to do were two different things, in this situation, at least. In their paradise, their bedroom, in their home, Kamijou Touma was free to do whatever he pleased with Kamijou Misaki. Perhaps, the best part of all, was that she always wanted it.

"Pervert," Misaki whispered to her husband, offering him a wink, after she'd risen up, and continued on her way, taking the lead. Touma quickly extended his hand, out towards his wife's; she knew what he was looking for, and, happily, blushing, Misaki took her husband's hand into her own. When they touched, their fingers interlocking, Misaki was hit by a great, euphoric rush of positivity.

"I have been your lover for a decade, your wife for over five years, living with you, sleeping with you in my arms, every day… and you still make me feel like I am in heaven, on the wings of a beautiful angel. You are incredible. Your touch is mesmerizing. I want to make love to you again, so badly."

Nuzzling her beloved, Misaki's femininity began to ache. She craved to become one with her soul mate again. It was if she could never get enough of him. She wanted to be on top, riding, forwards, and then backwards, so that her smitten, pleasured husband could watch her monumental breasts, and her large, plump posterior bounce, one after the other.

Then, she wanted to be on the bottom – Misaki's femininity could almost feel Kamijou Touma's enormous, juicy, thick member, sliding in and out, pressing against her soft, moist walls. Unconsciously, Kamijou Misaki licked her lips, as a shudder traveled down her spine, causing her body to shake, slightly. Her teeth chattered, for a few seconds, as her blush deepened.

"Misaki? Helloooo? Anyone in there? Knock, knock? Who's there? I am!"

"Touma?!"

Kamijou Touma tossed his head back, and laughed, heartily, as his wife began to awkwardly blush, even deeper than she'd been blushing before; apparently, such a thing was possible. "I… forgive me, husband, I'd lost myself in my own thoughts. You have my undivided attention, now."

"We're still chummy. Hey, you look fevered," Touma responded, jokingly, kissing Misaki on the crown of her head. "Might have to give you a checkup, later, see if everything's alright in there. Anyways… I was asking Accel-chan what he thinks this "Hub" is going to be like, considering that we're almost there. Wanted your thoughts, too, because, when don't I?"

"Sweetest existence, my everything," Misaki softly muttered to herself, her grip on her husband's hand tightening, slightly. "What do I think? I am imagining something along the lines of a great, fantasy castle. Cobblestone. Plenty of cobblestone."

"I'm sticking with my first idea. It's all going to be food, and gift shop shit, made to rip off stupid motherfuckers, and whipped motherfuckers, like you, hero. These places make a killing off you househusband types," Accelerator spoke. His lips curled into a grin that would've made Misaka Worst proud, as he waited for Touma's retort.

It came. "Hyuck, hyuck." Changing the pitch of his voice, Kamijou Touma began to speak softly, with an almost feminine tone; given how deep his "normal" voice was, hearing this almost Komoe-sensei-like voice absolutely hilarious, for Kamijou Misaki, who began to giggle, softly; if she wasn't restraining herself, she would've burst out laughing, loudly. She could almost imagine Komoe-sensei's stern, yet, completely adorable little face, looming over her wooden desk, as she addressed her class. That'd all been so long ago. Misaki sighed, contentedly; the past, despite its trials and tribulations, had been a good one.

"This Valentine's Day, buy her what she really wants, so that you can really show her how much you love her, because, our corporate executives need their pockets lined with gold. This Valentine's Day, buy that special woman in your life a two hundred million, six hundred thousand karat diamond ring, for only ¥767141527670000058368.00! If it's for her, it's got to be from Gloria's."

Accelerator, despite himself, broke down laughing; evidently, he had less self control than Kamijou Misaki did; somehow, Kamijou Touma had managed to keep his voice steady, during his entire on the fly parody of as series of television ads played far too frequently for his liking. Othinus, perched atop Accelerator's head, began to giggle, softly, in response. Accelerator's laugh was oddly contagious.

"Holy fuck… hero… you actually sound like the bitch who talks in the Gloria's ads. How the fuck do you do that?"

"Don't really know," Touma answered, truthfully. "I can just do it, I guess. It just happens, when I want it to happen. I can shrink my voice down. Not really the right description, but, whatever, it works."

"You have never bought me a two hundred million, six hundred thousand karat diamond ring, my prince. I think it is time that you show me how much you love me," Misaki spoke, holding her head high. She produced a huff, and crossed her arms beneath her impressive bosom.

A bulge instantly formed, in Touma's pants. Growing, perpetually, Touma began to lurch, as he leaned forward, awkwardly attempting to hide the beast that was wriggling, and trying to free itself from his pants. Misaki, knowing just where to look, was the only one who noticed the enormous protrusion. She wanted to suck it, to fuck it, to have it shoot its load all over her, inside of her, again and again, until her husband could take no more, if such a thing was possible.

"I'll do better, Ojou-Sama, you have my word!" Touma spoke, quietly. "Let me serve, Ojou-Sama, so that I can prove myself to you. I'm just a lowly commoner, in the presence of a Queen."

"You may serve me, but, if you fail in the tasks I set up for you, I will lock you up," Misaki remarked, softly, so that only her husband could hear her words. "I have ideas for… plenty of tests. Tests of endurance, tests of strength. You will prove yourself to me, alright, little commoner."

Touma's lips curled upwards, into a satisfied, aroused smirk. He'd planed his retort, however, he wasn't given the chance to vocalize the words.

"Hero? You alright? Your walking is kind of fucked up," Accelerator spoke. Othinus had to agree, but, she had a better idea as to what the cause of the "fucked up walk" was.

"I'm good, Accel, honest, just, uh, got a leg cramp. Too many long leg days, you know? Gotta keep in shape, though, gotta do all that… eheheh… pumping. Right, beautiful?"

"Right, handsome. Riiight. Pumping. Plenty of sweat-inducing, heart-pounding pumping."

The quartet crossed the "border", between "the Enchanted Forest", and what, according to the map sign that was in "the Plaza of Beginnings", was "the Hub".

If "the Plaza of Beginnings" had been impressive, which, it had been, to the quartet, "the Hub" was like something out of a science fiction film, or some high-end, triple A production video game. "The Hub" was like a city within Academy City. Structures, of all shapes and sizes dotted the landscape, which was mostly green. Towers of silver were mixed with great, multicolored fairy tale facades, in the distance. Tall, nourished blades of grass were visible in almost all directions, with only the structures, walkway signs, and the chocolate-colored walkways themselves to accent the green, rather than blot it out. Large, flashing neon signs dotted the skyline of "the Hub", all advertising their wares. Apparently, this amusement park had proper stores in it.

The action of "the Hub" was a few dozen meters down the cobbled pathway. Before the city within Academy City, there was a spacious park, which the quartet found themselves standing in. There were fountains, greatly resembling the fountain seen in the clearing of "the Enchanted Forest", benches, arranged in rectangular patterns, and, even circular patterns – the benches that made up these circular patterns were curved, and, their seats seemed to be made of light-colored plastic, rather than wood, like the straight-seated benches were. Lining the walkways, there were tall, milky-colored streetlights, which illuminated the light brown, brick walkways, and the grass that was within the light fixture's range of effect.

Trees dotted the landscape of the spacious park; these trees were no different than the trees which called "the Enchanted Forest" home; old oaks, weeping willows, and even fruit-bearing trees, such as apple trees, and pear trees called "the Hub's" park home.

From one of the ramparts, to the far west, a tall, sparkling waterfall dumped clear, equally sparkling water into a stream, which snaked throughout "the Hub's" enormous park. The surface of the stream's water was dotted with lily pads. Judging by the loud croaking, produced from the stream, which was audible to each member of the quartet, frogs, or perhaps toads, maybe even both, called the stream, and its surrounding banks home, just as the trees did, as did the birds, who flew above "the Hub", singing their songs.

"It would seem that Accelerator's guess was closer to the truth than my own," Misaki muttered. "I am still taken aback by this place. This is incredible. Absolutely… breathtaking. Just this park alone would have sufficed, yet, the park's designers made…"

"… an entire city, inside of Academy City," Touma finished, after Misaki's own voice had faded into obscurity. Misaki couldn't have said it better herself. Despite the fact that her ability was not active – it hadn't even been used in several months, in fact – Misaki felt like she and her husband were, as always, mentally linked with one another. "'nother sign, up that way, in the center of the park, guys." Touma pointed forwards, and, in response, the collective visions of Misaki, Accelerator, and Othinus followed his finger. Indeed, in the center of a circular plaza, its ground, as Misaki had predicted, made up of light, chocolate-colored cobblestone, which had vending machines, offering both food and drink, dotting its surfaces, as well as a larger version of the fountain that the quartet had stumbled upon in "the Enchanted Forest", there was another map sign.

"This is fucking insane," Accelerator mumbled to Othinus, who looked down at him, her single, functioning green eye widened.

"How do you think I feel, "number one"? I feel like a rat in a maze. More than usual. I'd gotten used to the, well, the tallness, of everything in Academy City, but this? This is something else; regardless, I won't give in. No, sir. I'm not going back into that purse. Not today! I'll stand against the tallness, if it kills me!"

Accelerator sighed, and began to walk towards the Kamijous, who were beginning to make their way towards the park's map sign. "You're fine, one-eyed brat. Nothing's going to fucking hurt you. I won't let anything fucking hurt any of you. Not you, not the heroes, not the nun, nobody. I'd like to see any motherfucker try. They'll have to get through me, first. Not fucking likely."

"Oh! My hero!" Othinus sarcastically responded. Despite her sarcasm, she really was thankful. For once, Accelerator's macho man routine had actually managed to settle her nerves. If anyone in Academy City was capable, it was Accelerator, the existence who blurred the lines between man and god.

The Kamijous, Academy City's "top dog", with a certain, one-eyed, former Magic God in tow dodged between groups of passersby, weaving between families, hordes of obnoxiously loud, but surely well-meaning young people, and other biological obstacles; Kamijou Touma could've sworn that he saw the blue beret of Hamazura Fremea, but, among the chorus of voices that surrounded him, Touma's own was lost. His attention was set on keeping Kamijou Misaki's hand in his own, and not letting go, ever.

Approaching the map sign, Misaki turned her vision to her husband's, briefly, and offered him a warm smile, her eyelids closing, temporarily hiding her bright, golden, starry eyes from view. Butterflies flapped their wings, and bounced against the inside of Touma's stomach, and his heart soared, at the sight of Misaki's smile. It was glorious, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"You are blushing, everything," Misaki remarked, once her eyes had re-opened, before she turned her vision back to the path in front of her. "You are the most adorable man in the world. I am having such a good day, as all days are, with you. I love you, Touma. Thank you; not only for this day, but, for this life we have together."

"Misaki? Me too. Every day I spend with you is an amazing one, even when we don't really do anything. I love you too, beautiful. No. Thank you. Thank you, Misaki. For everything."

At the map sign, the quartet managed to squeeze themselves through the crowds, that were passing it by. Standing their ground, the quartet collectively took a look, over the group of small landmasses, which seemed to be have been assembled to form a continent. According to the bright red arrow, which pointed to the center landmass, labelled as the "the Hub", the quartet would only have to walk through "the Hub's" city, within Academy City – the idea still boggled the quartet's respective minds – to get to their destination, "the Butchery".

Kamijou Misaki and Accelerator were beginning to adapt to the idea of a city within Academy City. Touma was adjusting, but, he still found his head hurting, slightly, when he began to think too deeply about it, and the obscure, surreal subjects that were somehow related to cities within cities.

"It appears that we must first traverse this city within Academy City, in order to get to the area referred to as "the Butchery," Misaki stated. "I wonder just how large this city is. I suppose we will find out, won't we?"

"You've got it, beautiful; so, what are we waiting for? Accel? Othi-chan? Ready to go?" Touma spoke, turning to look at the two who were standing a few feet behind him. Accelerator had stuffed his hands back into his pockets, and, apparently, Othinus had removed herself from Accelerator's head, and sat upon his shoulder, gripping a strand of his long, snow-colored hair. One of her tiny legs was crossed over the other, and, with her available hand, she propped herself up.

Accelerator smirked, as he began to take the lead. He didn't know where he was going, but, he assumed he'd eventually find his way. Passing by a group of youths, who practically froze, at the sight of him, their collective faces becoming as white as his hair, Accelerator's grin widened. The youths backed away, like terrified prey animals cautiously stepping away from a predator. "Ready? I'm always ready, hero, for anything."

"Number one", stop frightening children," Othinus scolded, to which Accelerator responded by clicking his tongue. The tiny, former Magic God, turning back to face the married couple, who were following behind, smiled, warmly, and genuinely. "I'm ready. I'm also ready to face this giant place. With you… family… unlikely friend, nothing can stop me, or impede my progress."

Touma, walking hand in hand with his everything, smiled back; his everything did the same, bright, starry eyes glowing in the former Magic God's direction. Their approval, their love, brought joy to Othinus' tiny heart. Internally, she swooned.

For some time, the quartet continued their walk through the park, leaving "the Hub's" park's map sign behind, as well as the crowds, that were beginning to form around it. From the map sign, the collection of people spread out in different directions, from around the map sign; some following in the footsteps of the quartet, and other spreading throughout the park. From "the Hub's" great city, in the distance, more individuals appeared to be heading in the opposite direction, moving towards "the Enchanted Forest", likely with the intention of either leaving the park, or paying "the Plaza of Beginning's" gift shop a visit.

For the quartet, and for everyone who called Academy City, the city-state surrounded by great, looming walls home, the fact that "the Hub's" city within Academy City lacked any sort of walls was a jarring one. It seemed almost foreign. It was just another source of change, that the quartet would have to adjust to.

As Kamijou Touma, Kamijou Misaki, Academy City's "top dog", and the tiny, former Magic God mounted upon the former's shoulder drew closer, and closer to "the Hub's" city, it seemed to, understandably, grow bigger, and bigger.

The structures had grown, as the quartet moved towards them; the towers of silver became progressively grander, and the towering fairy tale facades, the castle spires, the mighty ramparts of quartz coloration, lined with siege weapons, like the quartz-colored ramparts that brought an end to "the Enchanted Forest", growing more and more ornate, as the quartet's collective visions were able to visually identify more, and more of the city's greater details. Tunnel passageways were visible, with groups of people disappearing into their inky blackness, and, presumably, reappearing elsewhere within "the Hub". Apparently, the only thing that was unchanged, between the park that lead up to the city, and the city itself, was the color of the walkway, which remained light brown, and constructed of smooth bricks.

"Look! In the air!" Misaki excitedly exclaimed, pointing towards "the Hub's" city's skyline. Her husband's vision followed her index finger, as did the visions of Accelerator, and Othinus, the latter of whom had to squint, slightly. Their eyes widened. What appeared to be small cars, resembling those that dangled from the circular, metallic frame of a Ferris Wheel, were rising from the ground, and, seemingly, floating upwards, gradually, on a slope, of sorts. Upwards, they rose, slanted, until they straightened, and soared across the city's skyline, at a relaxing-looking pace.

Touma, as far as he knew, had been the first to make the internal Ferris Wheel comparison. However, Misaki had done so, as well, at the same time that Touma had, in fact. "Misaki? Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Touma questioned, to which Misaki turned to face her husband, mid-stride, and nodded, enthusiastically, smiling widely, pleased. He was thinking about it, too, the "not a date".

"I believe that I am thinking exactly what you are thinking, Touma. If we are sharing the same want, I would love to. Even if we are not, I would still love to. Everything you like, I like; you are just such a fun person, Touma. Everything you like, and do, is so much fun."

"One-eyed brat," Accelerator whispered; Othinus responded by perking up. She would've preferred to be called her proper name, but, given that it was Accelerator she was dealing with, "one-eyed brat" would have to suffice.

"Hm? What is it, "number one?" Othinus responded, leaning close to Accelerator's ear, so that he could hear her soft whispers.

Accelerator smiled. He didn't smirk, nor did he even just grin; he smiled. Nostalgia coursed through his mind, as he produced a soft, knowing sigh. "Let's get a separate car. I know that the heroes want. They ever tell you about their "not a date?"

"Of course," Othinus replied, with her own small, knowing smile. "The not a date. I know all about the not a date. The foolishness of human youth in action, at it's finest. I agree. I guess, it will also give us a chance to talk at greater length about the possible routes we may have to take, should our benefactors decide to expand their… my… family."

Continuing on their way, the quartet soon passed by the set of quartz-colored ramparts, and entered "the Hub's" city, within Academy City. Immediately, the sights, and sounds of the place brought awe to both Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki. Though the walkways of "the Hub's" city were tightly packed, with groups of other individuals who were also traversing the city, the bright, neon lights took the Kamijous' respective attentions away from the fact.

Accelerator, who maintained the lead, was able to cut a swathe through the crowds, simply by existing. Men, women, children, and everything in between moved out of the way to accommodate him, some looking fearful, others looking awestruck.

Othinus received mostly adoring looks from passersby; multiple young women, and even some young men produced soft, love-struck "awwws". The tiny, former Magic God blushed, her cheeks turning a shade of dark red, as her left eye looked downwards, towards her feet, and the ground that was so far away from her. Her tiny, bare feet dangled so far away from the ground below. Could she survive a fall? Othinus shuddered, and looked away.

After walking past some of the bright, reflective silver structures, mostly shops, and food vendors, which dotted what was apparently "First Street", according to a tall, flashing, neon road sign, the quartet found the source of the cars, and the means in which they were able to rise up from the ground, to travel the city's skyline.

Each of the cars emerged from a large, square-shaped, wooden structure, the entrance of which could be accessed via a wooden staircase, flanked by pristine, metallic handrails, glimmering beneath the synthetic glow produced by lights within the structure. The structure, made up of individual wooden planks, almost resembled a cottage, in its outward appearance. It stood, off to the side, in its own little section, a fair distance from "First Street's" main walkway. Its roof, constructed of wooden planks, like the rest of the structure itself, had a slope on either of its sides, which both met a point of intersection. The cars that emerged seemed to operate via a pully mechanism, which was attached to a thick, metallic tightrope, emerging from the illuminated port, where individual cars periodically emerged. The Kamijous watched on, curious, as a car began to ascend the sloped tightrope.

Every few minutes, a car would enter the rear side of the wooden structure, and, people of all sizes, ages, and ethnicities (though, most of the individuals in the Grand Kingdom were Japanese) would exit the wooden structure, from a doorless doorframe in the structure's side.

The frame was constructed with wood of a darker coloration than the rest of the structure. Others entered the wooden structure through the doorframe, evading the groups of people who were exiting. As the quartet approached, they witnessed shoulders brush, from time to time, but, nothing came of it, usually, only soft utterings of "excuse me", or "apologies".

Climbing the stairs, the trio, with Othinus clinging to Accelerator's shoulder, never daring to look down, instead, looking up, towards the darkening sky, and the slowly setting sun, which was offering the little island in the Far East its nightly farewell waves in the form of great streaks of pink, and orange, across the sky, entered the wooden structure – Touma, the gentle giant that he was, had some trouble with the doorframe, and had to duck beneath it, in order to avoid hitting his head.

Misaki produced a soft gasp, still hand in hand with her husband. The interior of the wooden structure was breathtakingly charming. Like the staircase, the floors of the structure were crafted of planks of wood, with small, metallic nails, their heads sparkling beneath the synthetic light provided by the structure's ceiling.

Consisting of wooden beams, which crisscrossed over one another, forming a web of light brown beams, circular light fixtures were attached to the ceiling, in the free areas, where interconnected beams offered space to house the fixtures. Insects, mostly moths, and tiny, unidentifiable winged creatures floated around the lights, on some unknown mission, following an unknown agenda.

Misaki ran her elbow over one of the walls, that were behind her. So smooth. It felt as smooth as it looked, in fact. Light brown in coloration, the walls were held in place by surprisingly thin wooden beams, which ran from the ceiling, to the floor, acting as supports.

The quartet found themselves standing in what almost resembled a train station, or some sort of other mass transit terminal. There were metallic benches, with black cushioned seats, and black cushioned backrests, along either wall of the structure. The armrests of the benches were ornately styled, curling downwards, and had smooth indents along their surfaces. Kamijou Touma, resisting the urge to throw himself down onto the comfortable-looking bench, out of fear of damaging it, beneath his mammoth form, sat himself down, gently, with his wife in tow; he had the intent of placing his fingers against the indents. They'd looked cool to the touch, and even looked oddly relaxing to fiddle with.

His wife had other ideas. Instead, Kamijou Misaki set herself down in her husband's lap. Crossing one leg over the other, his blonde beauty leaned back, and, wrapping her arm around Touma's shoulders, leaned in, towards his neck, and began to gently kiss it. Accelerator, with Othinus upon his shoulder, set himself down on the adjacent bench, and swiftly proceeded to go to sleep.

Beneath her, close to her femininity, Misaki felt a thick, wide bulge poking, and prodding her. She wanted it. She wanted to fuck it, and fuck it, until her husband unleashed his warm, milky, thick load. It was all hers, hers and hers alone. She'd been the first to touch the source of the bulge, not counting the owner of the bulge's source, and, she would be the last to do so. Both she and her husband knew this fact. They both wanted this sanctity.

Touma's arms had wrapped around his wife's waist, as he welcomed her affection. It was a nice position to be in, not even just because his wife was slowly, almost physically unnoticeably grinding against him, but, because he loved the attention from her.

It was getting Touma off. Even beneath his pants, and the undergarments beneath, his glands were still being successfully stimulated. Touma wanted to snake his hands up, into his soul mate's shirt, so that he could play with the bosom he adored so much; the only bosom he ever wanted. It was so perfect. Of course it was, it belonged to Kamijou Misaki, and everything that belonged to her was perfect.

"Are you having fun, Touma? Are you enjoying yourself? If you would like me to stop, just tell me, and I will. I just want to make you feel good, and take care of you, the way you deserve to be taken care of, my prince," Misaki whispered, softly, into the ear of her beloved.

Touma grinned, as his grip tightened, around his beloved's waist. Though she'd ceased her kissing of his neck, Touma still got to experience the wonderful feeling of her soft, quick breaths entering his ear. It caused him to shiver in pleasure. "Yeah, Misaki. I'm really enjoying myself. Don't stop. Don't stop grinding on me, like that. It feels so good, holy shit. Do you want to take me, Misaki? All of me?"

"Yes," Misaki swiftly replied, unconsciously blushing, heavily. "I want to take you. I want your seed inside me, and dripping from inside me, onto the outside. Can I have it? Will you fill me up, over and over again? Please? Plleeaaasseeeee?"

"This is so wrong, doing this out in public, even if nobody hears, or sees," Touma muttered, his voice dropping to an even softer whisper, "but it feels so good. Yeah, I'll fill you up, beautiful. I want to empty myself inside of you. Fuck, I want you."

A car arrived, producing a short, synthetic "ding", upon stopping, and, a group of laughing youths, some typing away on their phones, others looking to one another, and chuckling about some unknown kneeslapper, surely. There were a total of four young men, and five young women.

One of the young men, wearing a red and dark blue, backwards baseball cap, and dressed in a waist-length, hooded spring jacket, with baggy sweatpants, and a pair of boots, looked to Touma, grinning, and gave him two thumbs up. Silently, he mouthed the words, "get some!"

Touma raised an eyebrow, and returned the boy's grin, as Misaki shook her head, but held a smile on her face; she, too, had seen the boy's silent recommendation. Kamijou Touma would, indeed, be "getting some". Misaki would make sure of this.

"Heroes," Accelerator spoke, eyes still closed. Othinus, who was still perched on his shoulder, jumped slightly; she'd assumed him to have still been asleep. Perhaps he still was. Othinus wasn't going to poke the bear.

"Go on, get in the car. One-eyed brat and I will get the next one. We'll meet back here. Have fun, and don't do anything too fucked up in there. Might be cameras. Or the second ranked. Can the second ranked, the good one, even fuck? Who knows, who fucking cares. Just keep it clean. Fucking sex maniacs."

"As if, Accel," Touma chuckled. Accelerator smirked, and shook his head, from one side to the other. With a click of his tongue, he opened his eyes. Othinus looked into his crimson orbs, and smiled, tilting her head to one side.

"They're going to copulate," the former Magic God remarked.

Accelerator laughed, and, picking Othinus up from his shoulder, he set her in his lap, so that he could keep an eye on her. "What the fuck else do they do? When they're not working, they're fucking. Probably why they're always so goddamn happy."

The married couple, Touma and Misaki, quickly loaded themselves into the vacant car, beating out others; there were no attendants present, and, as such, they correctly assumed the cars were accessed on a "first come, first serve" basis. It didn't particularly matter, either way; more cars were arriving behind the car which the Kamijous had taken as their own.

Touma set the lock on the car's door, sliding into place. The metallic bolt produced a "click", as it was placed into the locking mechanism. A small, red light, next to the mechanism, which the bolt had entered, began to glow cyan in response; apparently, everything was in order.

The car was spacious, especially when compared to the cars of the Ferris Wheels, in school district six's amusement parks. The seats were wide enough for at least six individuals to comfortably set themselves down, three to either seat. Bright pink in coloration, the seats were cushioned, with soft pads, which were red in coloration. The posteriors of the Kamijous sank into the seat, which they sat upon.

The car's interior was metallic, as was its exterior; however, its interior had been ornately painted, with scenes of joy, and prosperity, upon its inner walls. A boy and two dogs, presumably belonging to him, in whatever universe the piece took place in, running through a field, the tall, green grass up to his waist; only the canines' respective heads could be seen poking out from the grass. The great, orange bulb in the right hand corner of the painting beamed sunlight down upon the trio, the boy and his loyal beasts.

Another painting depicted a setting sun, the sky bright pink, and orange, much like the real sky, that hung above Kamijou Misaki and Kamijou Touma, outside of the car. The painted ocean, or what looked like an ocean, since there appeared to be no land in sight, sparkled beneath the painted, setting sun.

The car began to move, slowly, but surely. Touma raised his right hand, and waved in the direction of Accelerator, and Othinus, who remained on their bench. Accelerator grinned, crimson orbs looking into Touma's own, as he flipped Touma the bird. Othinus waved her little, left hand enthusiastically. Upon noticing that Accelerator was performing a crude gesture, however, the tiny, former Magic God began to punch him in the gut. Accelerator responded by lifting her up, by the scruff of her neck, and blowing in her face, causing her to flail.

"Well, here we go, beautiful. Remind you of anything?" Touma inquired, as their car left the wooden structure. Slowly, it was beginning to ascend the slope that the cars before it had, previously. First, it was a few inches away from the ground. Then, it was a few feet. The car wasn't moving particularly quickly, despite the distance being covered.

Kamijou Misaki made a swift check for internal cameras. She saw none, but, couldn't be sure.

"UNDER_LINE may be gone, however, that is not to say that these cars are not covered in tiny, invisible cameras, tucked away in obscure corners."

Misaki closed her starry eyes, as she snuggled close to her husband, placing her arms around his waist, and nuzzling his right breast. Misaki's breathing slowed, as she instantly descended into a state of relaxation. Kamijou Misaki's lips curled into a satisfied smile. She produced a quiet, small vocalization, as she continued to nuzzle Kamijou Touma.

With the car to themselves, the two could get up to just about anything, so long as they were inconspicuous in their shady dealings; but Kamijou Touma felt like this was just as good. Sexual interactions were welcomed; they were a healthy part of their marriage, but, these soft, innocent interactions were good, in their own way.

They were better than good. These clean, innocent interactions were, also, a healthy part of the Kamijous' marriage, just as much as sexual interactions were. They were great, even. Touma wrapped his right arm around Misaki's shoulders, and wrapped his left around her waist. Pulling his wife close, he looked downwards.

The car must've covered, at the very least, fifty feet, or so. They were approximately a quarter way up the sloped section of the tightrope. Already, Touma witnessed a sea of flashing, multicolored neon lights, silver towers, likely belonging to the shops and food vendors of "the Hub", and quartz-colored fairy tale structures.

Off, in the distance, outside of the walls of the Grand Kingdom entirely, in fact, Kamijou Touma thought he saw an enormous, individual bolt of lightning drop from the sky, and strike an open field, loose electricity fleeing from the point of impact. Touma's vision was confirmed – at least, he could confirm that he had, indeed, seen a bolt of lightning, one which wasn't natural in origin, when a series of multicolored explosions followed.

"Biribiri? Is that you? What're you doing out there? Maybe it's one of Misaka's sisters, mucking around, or a group of them. Yeah. Sometimes, they get together to cause trouble. Could be Imouto, and some of the other sisters. Maybe, Misaka's with Imouto?

"Oh well. It'll sort itself out, whatever it is. Not getting involved. Not. Getting. Involved. What time is it? Not getting involved o'clock. I'm a married man, with a family, and a job. I can't just go off swinging my right hand, and yelling about illusions anymore. Won't bring Misaki, Index, and Othi-chan back into that life. Never."

Kamijou Touma felt that it was time to renew an old promise, especially given the direction his higher mind's contemplations had taken; a promise he'd made to the woman who had been tied to his heart, and to his soul. The woman who still was tied to him. Kamijou Misaki wore, on her ring finger, a band, which was identical to the band which Touma wore on his own; it was a symbol of protection. Their marriage, protected by a vow, and an unbreakable bond between two close human beings, whose lives were intertwined on a certain fateful summer day, over ten years ago, was indestructible. This was how the Kamijous loved.

"Misaki?" Touma spoke.

Slowly, Misaki opened her eyes, her warm smile only growing, as her starry eyes locked with Touma's own dark eyes. "Mm? Yes, Touma?"

"I'll always protect you, Kamijou Misaki, even if you're one of the mentally, emotionally, and physically strongest people I know; even if you don't need protecting, I'm going to protect you, anyways. Misaki, will you protect me, too, if I ever need it? If I fall down, you'll pick me up, right? Dust me off, and help me get back up on my feet?"

Misaki's eyes widened, and she gasped, slightly. Her husband's words were nearly identical to those he'd uttered ten years ago, save for the updating of the surname she'd adopted, when, at the altar, she'd abandoned her maiden name, and the cursed heritage of lies and abuse that clung to it, in order to embrace a new name, and a new life, with an adoring, understanding man, the only man, the only person she ever wanted to be with.

Kamijou Misaki knew what her response was going to be. "K-Kamijou Touma, I will protect you, with my very life. Whenever you need me, all you have to do is call, and I will be there, oh God, I will be there in an instant. I will drop everything and anything for you, my prince, my husband, my everything. Should you fall down, I will catch you before you hit the ground, before you have the chance to even be scratched."

Their lips connected, as the car they sat in left the sloped section of the metallic tightrope behind, and crawled across the skyline, along the straightened tightrope. The two were bathed in the neon lights of "the Hub's" city below them, as the lift car passed the buildings of "the Hub's" city. Their ritual of mutual adoration and respect was accented by the final farewells of the setting sun; ribbons of pink and orange, scattered across the nearly cloudless, dark blue sky, making the final steps in their majestic dance.

Kamijou Misaki crawled atop Kamijou Touma, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, messing his hair with her hands, and, from her mouth, her tongue connected with Touma's own. Kamijou Touma's arms were instantly around his wife's waist. She was pulled in, close, so close that she could smell his perfect, intoxicating scent. Invading her nostrils, the scent, like a pheromone, drove Kamijou Misaki wild, as she began to pant, and moan.

Their tongues connected. Snaking against one another, their tongues battled for supremacy, but, neither was succeeding. Kamijou Misaki couldn't even begin to try and control the loud, aroused moans that escaped her lips, and overtook the interior of the car. Kamijou Touma continuously huffed, aroused, his hands snaking beneath Misaki's top, towards the specially designed sports bra that held her bosom in place. His fingers snuck into the cups of his wife's bra, as Touma's lips struggled to connect with his lover's; they were beginning to curl into a grin.

Kamijou Misaki blushed, heavily, her face a shade of deep crimson. Her eyelids were closed, hiding her starry eyes.

"Do you want to play with them…? Oh, my… this is so… inappropriate. So risqué; but I do not care. Play with them. You can place your head inside of my shirt, your first head, the one with a brain, and… oh my… you can suck on them, if you would like to, handsome. Would you like me to breastfeed you?" Misaki was panting. Heavily. Risqué was one way of putting this. She truly didn't care. She couldn't even begin to care. She just wanted her husband. The windows of the car, which looked out onto "the Hub's" city below were small in size. For the most part, the car was solid metal, which, under normal circumstances couldn't be seen through.

"Sounds like you're enjoying the idea almost as much as I am," Touma muttered, between breaths, when he was given a moment to break away from the barrage of his kisses his wife was providing him. "One thing, though. What if you, uh, what's the word…"

"Lactate?" Misaki softly inquired, blushing, slightly. There were those thoughts again, bombarding her mind. Did she want to do this with her husband because, consciously, she felt as if that was the destiny she wanted to follow, so badly? Of course, her husband's mouth had engaged in "activities" with her nipples before, and, she knew he enjoyed them. Maybe, that was it. Surely, Kamijou Misaki was just looking too deeply into her own mind. Still, she'd never lactated before. What would it feel like?

"Yeah, that's it, while I'm at it? I know if I was to stimulate them enough, you could, uh, lactate. Heh, looks like I'm on the receiving end, this time. I've always been kind of curious to know what it tastes like. I can dish it out and receive it. I'll swallow, just like you do, perverted woman of mine. My wife, my woman. I guess you really are into exhibitionism after all."

Before Kamijou Touma could continue his rambling, Kamijou Misaki stretched her sleeveless top, outwards, and forced it over her husband's head. It was baggy enough to give him plenty of breathing room, as he discovered, soon enough.

Beneath Misaki's top, it was warm. Misaki's bosom was warm, as well, as the rest of her body, which Touma could also feel against him. Slipping the cups of Misaki's sport bra downwards, he grinned, as he eyed up the protrusions he enjoyed pleasuring himself with so much.

Kamijou Misaki was shaking, with pleasure, her hands having slipped beneath her shirt, and, along the back of her husband's head, fingers running swiftly, shakily through his hair, Misaki felt the sensation of her right breast being sucked on, as the other was fondled, with such gentleness and care.

This sensation alone would've been enough to drive her up the wall, and into the realm of impossibly primal, wild desire, but, her husband's words lingered in Misaki's mind. "My wife, my woman". It turned her on, the idea of belonging to Kamijou Touma, and him alone. She was his. She felt like she was on the verge of fainting, so pleasured did she feel.

"D-do… d-do you l-like what y-you taste, T-Touma? My h-husband… mine, oh, all mine, my man, my life partner, my soul mate?!" Misaki hissed, more loudly, and with a bit more force than she'd intended. Touma seemed to like the aggressiveness, as he began to produce moans of his own, loud, drawn-out, and utterly on the brink of sexual ecstasy.

"Yweah," Touma muttered, excitedly, between mouthfuls. "Ywour tits twaste rweally good, bweautiful. I want your fwucking milk."

Misaki looked from side to side, her face growing redder, and redder. This was so wrong, this public display, yet, it felt so right, so amazing. It wasn't like they were in the middle of a highway, engaging in this behavior. This was a closed, airborne lift car, with only small windows. At this point, the married couple was so far from the ground, that there was no way anyone could possibly see them. Right? Kamijou Misaki shook the paranoia off, banishing it to the same section of her mind where she'd banished Shokuhou Misaki, and took a long, deep breath. Her lungs felt empty. So did her femininity. She wanted both to be filled.

"Keep sucking, you… beast," Misaki hissed. "I will give you a drink, if you suck on my nipples, good, and softly, just the way I like it. I will fill your mouth to the brim, and make you swallow every. Fucking. Drop. You are not allowed to waste even a dribble of your Ojou-Sama's milk."

"Filth-mouth Misaki," Touma remarked, separating his lips from his wife's breast for a split second. This was unacceptable. With a forceful shove, Kamijou Misaki pushed Kamijou Touma's head back into place, and grinned, as her eyes opened. Her starry eyes looked to the messy lump beneath her shirt. Her entire body was shaking. Misaki felt like she was in heaven, like she had transcended her mortal body's limitations, somehow.

"You do this to me. You turn me into a pervert, Kamijou Touma. Every second that I look at you, into your eyes, or at that perfect, handsome, stubble-covered face of yours, I just want to make love to you, and feed you with my breasts. I would like to do both. When we get home, I want to ride your manhood, while you suck on my nipples, and kiss my breasts. Is this acceptable?"

"Accweptable," Kamijou Touma muttered. He switched, from the right breast, to the left, his lips sliding over Misaki's left breast's nipple. The sucking began again, and Kamijou Misaki threw her head back, causing her hair, still tied into a knot, to flop. A long, pleasured moan fled Misaki's lips. "I'm swo fwucking… hard. Fwor you, always fwor you, always jwust fwor you."

"Is that so? I might be able to help. Would you like a handjob, husband?" Misaki asked, bluntly, like it was the most casual thing in the world. "Do not worry about your cum. I will swallow it. Every last drop. I love sucking on your manhood, and swallowing your cum. I wish I could do so constantly. Can I be your cum bucket, Touma?"

"When we gwet hwome?" Touma asked. His voice sounded slightly awkward, and, instantly, Misaki felt bad. She was grateful that her husband had come this far with her. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel uncomfortable. "I thwink that mwight be going just a bwit too far, up here… sworry, bweautiful, I know I'm a drwag."

"No, no, you are no "drag". Please, do not apologize," Misaki spoke, quickly, and, with a bit more force than she'd intended to use. As if to atone for her actions, which she regarded as further fueling the proverbial fire, Misaki's vocalizations softened, in their tone. "It is absolutely okay. We can stop, if you are not comfortable. Please, just tell me, if you want to stop, and I will have no trouble with it. I… I want you, so badly, Touma. I do not feel like I can wait; but I will force myself, if I must, for you. For you, I can do anything."

Touma was about to respond. He'd planned to state that he, as always, appreciated his wife's supportive, and understanding words, as well as the driving thoughts behind them. However, Touma's words were stopped, in their tracks, before they'd even had the chance to try and emerge from his mouth, which was preoccupied with his wife's left breast's nipple.

Kamijou Misaki's nipple began to pulsate. Soft, almost unnoticeable vibrations began to travel up the small, pink bulb, surrounded by a patch of pink, bumpy skin, lighter in coloration than the rest of Misaki's breast.

Disconnecting his lips, from his wife's nipple, Touma pulled his head out, from beneath her shirt, a concerned look on his face. His hair was terribly messed, as he joined Misaki on her seat, taking her hands into his, gently. "Beautiful? It doesn't hurt, does it? Should we keep going? Is your breast going to get blue… or, I guess, in this case, white balls, if its milk doesn't come out? I guess there's only one way to know, eh?"

"You are the sweetest, Touma," Misaki swooned. "I do not know, truth be told. I do not know a lot about lactation. Tokiwadai's "sexual education" was far from stellar, and, Komoe-sensei… oh, bless you, you little miracle worker, but…"

Touma offered his wife an understanding look. Komoe-sensei and "sexual education" didn't go well, with one another. She had hardly been able to look at a black and white diagram of the male reproductive system without blushing, and tearing up.

"Relax, Misaki. Here, I have an idea," Touma began. Lifting himself from his seat, he gently, with caution in his actions, sat his wife down upon the seat, resting her posterior, gently, against the cushion. Touma looked out of the car's small window. To his relief, he and his wife's airborne trip over the skyline of "the Hub's" city seemed to be far from over. They had, by Touma's quick mental estimates, at the very least, a few hundred meters to traverse, before their ride came to an end. Touma looked down to his right hand, for a moment, before he looked back up, to his wife.

"Thanks. This would've been the perfect time for you to strike; but you didn't. So, thanks, I guess. Why am I talking to myself? It can't hear me."

"Just relax. I'll help get it out. Just… keep me informed, tell me how you're feeling. If it hurts, for whatever reason, I'll do whatever I can to make you feel better. Maybe we should've thought this through a little better."

"I think so, my prince" Misaki admitted, blushing. Her starry eyes fell to her lap, as she produced a sigh. "It should not hurt. Rikou has told me, in the past, that it feels relieving, when a woman lactates."

With a nod, Touma fell to his knees, and, as Kamijou Misaki leaned against the cushioned backrest of the car, he placed his head back, beneath her shirt, and resumed his purging ritual. As before, Misaki placed her hands against her husband's head, and gently, softly, ran the tips of her fingers over his scalp. Lips wrapping around his wife's left nipple, his suction resumed; this time, Kamijou Touma had a new mission.

For some time, the married couple stayed where they were, engaging in their purifying ritual, there, alone, in their airborne lift car, sharing the experience, which had become an awkward, if memorable one. It was already proving itself to be a lesson learned; the Kamijous had to learn to better control their sexual urges, at least, when they were beyond the walls of their paradise, which was a free for all realm, by the couple's respective standards.

Neither of the Kamijous knew, exactly, how much time had passed. It could've been five minutes, ten minutes, maybe, it had even been thirty minutes, a full half hour? Kamijou Misaki's grip tightened, ever so slightly, as she began to smile. It was coming. Misaki's lips parted, as harsh, quick breaths escaped her nostrils. Her eyebrows rose up, on her face, as an unusual, but pleasurable shiver traveled up her spine, and caused her upper body to shudder. Her heart's rate of beating increased, and she began to moan, softly. Ecstasy was beginning to overtake her.

This was an incredible feeling. It almost felt like an orgasm; Kamijou Misaki had experienced enough orgasms, courtesy of her husband, to know what such a euphoric experience was like.

Hamazura Rikou's words had been true. Partially, at least. There was a slight stinging sensation, when breastmilk began to flee her nipple; Misaki mentally likened it to the prick of a needle, but, for the most part, her most recent experience with lactation was a pleasurable one. It really did feel relieving. Kamijou Touma, too, seemed to be enjoying himself. His hands had fled from beneath his wife's sleeveless shirt, and had traveled to her thighs, where they ran, from the top of either of her thighs, to her ankles.

If Kamijou Touma had been expecting some sort of a strange-tasting subject to rush into his mouth, and, subsequently, travel down his throat, which he had been, subconsciously, at least, he'd been disappointed. It tasted like milk, but, a lot purer, than what he and Misaki bought, to stock their fridge with. Sweet, a little bit nutty, accented by a vanilla-like flavor.

"Delicious…? Delicious. It tastes really good. It actually tastes really fucking good, holy shit. It's, like… vanilla. Unf. It really tastes good. This is kind of weird, I guess? I dunno. I wonder if Shiage's into doing this sort of thing, with Rikou. Actually, never mind, that's a weird thought. Just going to put that off in the corner."

"It tastes so fucking good, Misaki," Touma mumbled, following the ceasing of the liquid's expunging. Touma ran his arm across his mouth, though, there was nothing to be found there. "Maybe, we should do the other one, too, just to make sure. I do have ulterior motives, by the way. I definitely just want to keep sucking on your tits. Fuck it, fuck what's acceptable. Let's have a little bit of fun. We're always working so hard, working our asses off. Let's throw caution to the wind, Misaki, just this once. We're still young."

"Perverted husband," Misaki teased, panting, slightly. "What a strange experience… pleasurable, humorous, even, given this setting of ours, but, strange. That felt very good. Feeling the milk, rushing out of my nipple. Is this what breastfeeding our… child… would feel like? If we had one? Oh, Touma…"

Touma resisted the urge to try and kiss his wife; that would have to wait until he brushed his teeth, or, at least, was able to rinse his mouth out. Pulling his head out, from beneath his wife's shirt, Touma smiled up at Misaki, and swallowed his own vanilla-accented saliva. "Before that, though, I need to know if you're feeling alright. Did it hurt? Are you in any pain, beautiful?"

Misaki shook her head, no. "It stung, initially, not too much. Like the prick of a needle's tip, but, that short-lived pain gave way to… such pleasure. It really was a relieving experience."

Kamijou Touma offered a shrug, as he stood up, and sat himself on the cushioned seat of the lift car, next to Kamijou Misaki, who snuggled close, still blushing. "So? Up for round two?"

Kamijou Misaki's lips curled into a devilish grin, that would've made Misaka Worst proud, as her vision locked with her husband's. "I want to feed you, commoner. You should get back down, on the ground, where you belong, grovelling at your Ojou-Sama's feet. Know that at some point, you will clean them, too, with that disgusting tongue of yours."

"Yes, Ojou-Sama." With the swiftness of a truly submissive servant, Kamijou Touma quickly fell to the floor of the lift car. Kamijou Misaki, with equal swiftness, pulled him upwards, and, stuffing her husband's head beneath her top, shoved his head against her "full" breast, as she began to breathe, heavily.

This was good. This strangeness, this "exhibitionism", no matter how limited, was good. Misaki almost wanted someone to see. Kamijou Touma belonged to her. Hers were the only nipples he wanted to suck on, hers were the only breasts he wanted to kiss. Both husband and wife knew this fact. He belonged to her. Both husband and wife knew this, as well.

Kamijou Misaki wanted all of her husband's once-admirers to know that she meant business. She wanted them to watch, horrified, filled with envy, as she territorially rode her husband's manhood, and received load after load of his massive, warm, sticky seed, the seed which belonged to her. As with most things, both husband and wife knew this fact to be true. The thought was turning Misaki on, driving her mad, closer and closer to the edge; perhaps she'd already tipped over the edge, and was falling downwards.

"Touma, husband, there is something I want to ask you, and I would like your honest opinion. There is no right or wrong answer… I know how shy and humble you can be. Please, speak your mind to me. How would you feel about us making a dirty video?"

In the lift car that was two cars behind the car which was occupied by the Kamijous, Academy City's "top dog", Accelerator, and the one-eyed, former Magic God, Othinus, sat, across from one another. Othinus had the entirety of the car's left seat to herself. She sat elegantly, her legs curled beneath her posterior, with her tiny hands in her lap. Othinus kept her eye's vision as far away from the small windows of the car as possible. If she felt small in the car itself, looking down, towards "the Hub's" city beneath her, she would've felt nonexistent.

Accelerator leaned back, in his seat, one leg laid across the knee of the other, his arms folded across his scrawny chest, his long, snowy fringe in his face.

"So, "number one"; how much do you want to bet they're inconspicuously engaging in coitus? ¥1535 sounds fair, I think," Othinus remarked.

Accelerator clicked his tongue in response, before his lips curled upwards, causing a wide, malevolent grin spread across his face. "You're on, one-eyed brat. They're almost certainly fucking, or, one is licking the other up, like a couple of fucking animals. I still remember when the hero was afraid to admit that he jacked off. Shit really does change."

"Touma was afraid to admit he engaged in acts of self-pleasure?" Othinus inquired, seemingly dumbfounded. "Such is a natural human activity. Everyone engages in self-pleasure, at some point or another, almost always. Of course, there are exceptions, such as those with intense religious fervor, or, those with intense restraint."

"Thanks for the lesson, one-eyed brat," Accelerator chuckled, looking to the floor, as he leaned forward, clasping his hands, and resting them just a few inches away from his lap. Academy City's "top dog" shuffled in place, a few times. "Yeah. You got to know the hero after the fifth ranked got him out of his weird shell. Before that, the hero was awkward as fuck, even when the fifth ranked was dating him. I couldn't've put up with that shit. Fifth ranked did, somehow."

Othinus looked into Accelerator's crimson orbs, her singular, green eye gleaming beneath the synthetic light provided by the interior of the lift car. "What about you, "number one? Have you engaged in acts of self-pleasure?"

"What the fuck kind of question is that, one-eyed brat?" Accelerator scoffed. "Of course I've fucking jacked off. It keeps me fucking sane. Whatever happens in my head is just in my head, just a stupid goddamn fantasy, can't hurt anybody. Your turn. You ever stuck your fucking fingers in your vag, one-eyed brat?"

Accelerator had certainly been quite forthright. Still, Othinus was less than taken aback. Accelerator was Accelerator, after all. "Have I, "number one"? I've dabbled. That's exactly the problem, though. There are no safety-tested toys that are… um, "fitting", for my size. Sexual fantasies are… interesting. Skeletons in the closet, sometimes. Feelings one would prefer to keep locked away emerge, and, one can embrace them freely, as you say, without the worries of causing collateral damage."

Othinus, like Accelerator had before her, shuffled in placed, placing one foot over the bare sole of the other, and then, sitting her posterior upon both. She produced a sigh, as her cheeks began to glow bright pink in coloration, and she tilted her head, downwards, her single, functioning eye's vision trained on the ground of the lift car. Her little heart was beating quicker, and quicker. Othinus wanted to get it off her chest, but, she was afraid. What would he think? What would she think?

"I see no point in holding this back. On more than one occasion, I've received offers to be restored to my former self; offers from those who could certainly be capable of such a feat, but, I'm skeptical. I'd be in a much more suitable form to…"

"You've got leftovers for the hero," Accelerator stated, simply, efficiently. "What fucking woman doesn't want to jump the hero's bones? Forget it, one-eyed brat, you'll die. Seriously. Just fucking forget it.

"I'm not just saying that, either, I've fucking seen what the fifth ranked does to people who fuck with the hero. Remember that New Light bitch, Lessar? Took the frog doctor a week to fix her face. Fifth ranked went fucking berserk. I guess that's an extreme case, though."

Othinus shuddered. A chill ran up her spine, as her body shook, awkwardly, her teeth clacking. "W-what? W… w-what did Misaki do to Lessar? I was never informed of t-this… s-she's so gentle, a-and u-understanding. She couldn't h-have done that. It almost sounds like something the Railgun would've done. It must've been someone else. Perhaps you're mistaking the two?"

"The third ranked and the fifth ranked are two completely different people. Ask the fifth ranked yourself, one-eyed brat," Accelerator nonchalantly remarked. "Heh. You should've seen the hero's fucking face. He was white as a goddamn ghost."

Othinus softly cleared her little throat.

"L-let's change the subject, "number one."

"Whatever."


	15. Lewd Conduct

Kamijou Touma raised an eyebrow, inquisitively, though Misaki couldn't see it, due to his head being stuffed beneath her shirt. That made his lack of a response all the more unnerving. Had she upset her husband? He always had been quite humble, and somewhat reserved, in regards to his sexuality, after all. Had she overstepped her boundaries, or, more likely, her husband's boundaries? With his wife's "unserviced" nipple removed from his mouth, somewhat reluctantly, Touma produced a curious-sounding "hm". This was certainly an interesting question.

"A… dirty movie? You mean a porno? You want to make a homemade porno? Am I getting this right? Like the ones we made before? Are we just going to stuff it in a box, like those ones, or…?"

Kamijou Misaki shook her head, no, slowly, as she blushed, and lowering her head, downwards, as if she was ashamed of herself, she looked to her lap. "I am so proud to call you my husband. I just want to flaunt you, and show you off. I want to show the entire world just how much I love you, and that… that you are mine. I want everyone to see that you are mine, and there are few better ways to show that then to engage in an act of lovemaking."

The relative awkwardness was shrugged off, as Kamijou Misaki's lips curled into a wide, aroused smirk, the edges of her lips nearly reaching her cheeks. "We will discuss this when you are finished. Did I tell you that you could stop sucking, little commoner? No. I did not tell you that. Continue, please me."

"Yes, Ojou-Sama." Again, the small, pink protrusion was placed inside of Kamijou Touma's mouth, his lips placed over, and beneath his wife's left breast. He grunted, as he forced his hands upwards, into the cuffs of Misaki's pants. He began to stroke her soft, bare legs.

They were beyond smooth, their skin so pink, and creamy in coloration. He wanted to lick them clean, from top to bottom. Touma wanted to lick, and kiss his wife's whole body, from head to toe. Especially to toe; but that was too weird. That'd have to stay locked up.

Then, something happened that pushed Kamijou Touma over the edge. Thus far, he'd maintained mastery over his sexual desire, and his savagery; up until this point, the beast within had remained caged, locked away, clawing at thin air through the bars of its proverbial cell. That's all it had been able to do. No matter how much it wanted to be unleashed, it couldn't be. It lacked the proverbial, opposable thumbs to claw, ravenously, at the lock of its cage with any sort of success.

It was suddenly unleashed, with a singular vocalization produced by Kamijou Misaki. The words that followed the vocalization only helped to egg the beast on. The door of the beast's cage was torn open, the lock falling to the ground of Touma's subconscious mind, forgotten, as his higher mind gave in to the need to find bestial, savage pleasure.

"Ohhhohoho! A little peasant boy, suckling on his Queen's nipples, hoping to have even a droplet of her milk drip down, into his dirty, little mouth. What a pitiful sight to see, indeed."

Kamijou Touma lost control, the proverbial beast rampaging throughout the corridors of his mind, crashing into walls, salivating, and snarling. He began to grunt, and moan, aggressively, as he grabbed hold, as gently as he could manage, of his wife's thick, muscular calves, and began to lick around the surface of her left breast, slowly, but surely spit-shining it, rubbing it down with his tongue, plastering it with his saliva. Grabbing her husband's hair, and failing to hold back the loud, pleasured moans that fled her lips, Misaki writhed in place, her body shivering in pleasure.

"Ojou-Sama… can I please have another taste of your milk? I'm so thirsty, Ojou-Sama," Touma muttered, almost incoherently, between the smacking of his lips, and the grunts he produced.

"Beg, commoner," Misaki huffed. "You are lucky that you are even sucking on my nipples. You should be grateful that I am even allowing you this, you dirty-mouthed little man. You are barely worthy of looking at me."

Touma's manhood pulsated, shifting in place within his boxers. He loved it. The words of scorn, simply lines thought of on the fly by his wife, as part of their roleplaying experience, never having any sort of legitimate meaning, got him off so much. He loved the idea of being lower than his wife, somehow, even if, in reality, such a thing couldn't've been farther from the truth. It was a fantasy, and, in a fantasy, anything could happen. Equals could become separated as Queens and servants for the purpose of sexual gratification.

"I know I don't deserve it, Ojou-Sama, I'm begging you, please, let me have another taste. Just one. I know I'm so far below you that I could never hope to climb the social ladder to be your equal. This is where I belong, Ojou-Sama, at your feet, serving you, begging for the chance to even look at you. I'm nothing, and you're everything, my Queen."

Another one. Misaki had already broken his resolve. This was just fuel tossed into the raging, crackling, proverbial fire, that burned within Kamijou Touma, the fire that drove him nuts. He loved this woman, his wife, so much. She was so perfect.

"Ohhhhhohoho! Such a desperate little servant. That is all you are, to me, to your Ojou-Sama, your Queen. You are not worthy to even lick the bottoms of my shoes."

"I'd be honored to lick them clean, Ojou-Sama, at least, then I'd be fulfilling my only purpose, to serve my Queen," Touma mumbled, like a rabid animal, so lost in his own pleasure that his vision had partly blurred. It swam, as the taste of Misaki's breast assaulted his taste buds. With his tongue making its third run over her left nipple, Touma began to feel it pulsate, just as the right nipple had, before it. Kamijou Touma switched his method, and began to kiss the soft, warm, fleshy protrusion, softly, and gently.

Throwing her head back, Kamijou Misaki's moan turned to pleasured shriek, after a few minutes; another mouthful of delicious, warm breastmilk rushed into her husband's mouth, and began to drip down from his lower lip, and along his chin. Touma's eyes closed, as he groaned in ecstasy. Misaki tugged on her husband's hair, as he happily swallowed every morsel of the lifegiving substance, licking his lower lip, and his chin, trying to lap up every last drop.

"Drink lots! Drink lots, peasant! Do not waste even a single gulp!" Misaki cried aloud, writhing in place, falling deeper and deeper in the throes of pleasure. Her mind practically reeled, at the constant barrage of sexual stimulation.

Touma couldn't hold back. He was no longer in control, in any capacity. His most primeval needs took control, and forced his sense of reason into submission, savagely pummeling it until it was little more than a whimpering lump, dying, in a cobweb-ridden corner of his mind.

"You want to make a porno? A "dirty movie", beautiful?" Touma inquired, pulling his head out from beneath his wife's shirt.

Smiling down at him, her cheeks glowing bright pink, she panted, slightly, as she began to regain her senses. Placing both of the palms of her hands to Kamijou Touma's cheeks, Kamijou Misaki leaned forward, and answered, "yes, handsome. I want to show the world how much I adore making love to you. I want them to see that you belong to me; that you are the Queen's Prince."

"You're on. Casting call!" Touma exclaimed, loudly, as he rose up from the floor, and sat himself back on the seat, next to his wife. "Of course, there's only one performer I want, beautiful. You fit the role perfectly. You're the only one who ever could."

Misaki blushed, heavily, as she began to savagely kiss her husband's neck. Lips smacking against his neck, tongue rolling over her husband's bare flesh, Misaki hands fell to the bulge, protruding violently in Touma's pants, as she began to massage it. "Touma… Touma… husband… I want your manhood. I want it so bad, Touma. I want to feel your enormous, thick manhood."

"I think I might have to take you up on your earlier offer. I've gotta cum. I need it. Really quick. Just jerk me off, and let me cum in your mouth. Nobody's going to see. We've got a while to go, before our car gets back to that little cottage. If I don't cum, I'm going to lose it. You're turning me on so much. I feel like it's calling to me, beautiful. Are you comfortable with that? Can I cum in your mouth? Less mess, that way. I don't have anything on me to shoot it into, and I honestly can't wait until we get home. I feel like I'm going to explode. If you don't want to, it's honestly cool, don't get me wrong. No pressure, beautiful!"

Pointing to the window, and to the sea of neon lights below, Misaki's vision followed her husband's index finger. The car wasmoving rather slowly, after all. A part of her hoped they'd get stuck in the air, and have a few hours, or even days, to themselves.

"Of course I want to. You are so sweet, so caring. Thank you, handsome. To answer your question: fuck yes, love of my life, one handjob coming up. For you, I will do more than just swallow that delicious seed of yours; I will even throw in a blowjob, as well," Misaki mumbled, happily, as her cheeks began to glow a bright shade of red. Misaki hoped there were cameras watching. She also hoped that the footage somehow, through some strange series of coincidences, made its way to the inboxes, physical or digital, of her husband's admirer's, especially those she couldn't necessarily count as being "former" admirers.

She wasted no time in first pulling her husband's pants, just a bit, just enough to expose his boxers, with his undergarments following suit. There it was. Enormous, tall, complete with a full head of foreskin; just enough for the hard, fleshy thing to be perfectly attractive. It was Misaki's, and only Misaki's. Licking her lips, with her eyebrows raised, Kamijou Misaki went to work. Stretching herself out, Misaki laid herself down on her belly, across the seat of the lift car, and, raising her legs into the air, Misaki moved in for the kill.

The taste was amazing. It was her favorite taste, in the whole, wide world. Salty-tasting, yet, sweet-tasting as well, her husband's manhood's cleanliness was just another factor that made him the perfect, ultimate lover. The setting made it all the better. Being exposed, like this, brought Misaki's burning desire to its boiling point.

Though his stamina proved to be both a hindrance and a blessing, Kamijou Misaki enjoyed herself, throughout the fifteen minutes in which she tugged on, licked, kissed, and sucked on the head of Kamijou Touma's manhood, offering her husband a taste of heaven, by treating his solid, fleshy rod to a "servicing". The rather slow rate of progress could also be attributed to Misaki's preference for milking her husband's manhood softly, and gently, as not to cause him any sort of friction burn, or other pain.

Throughout the lewd display of "public" indecency, Misaki's eyes were closed, as she embraced the feeling of having the manhood she adored so much once again, as well as its amazing taste. She'd missed it, in the time that she hadn't been able to play with it, which she knew had only been a few hours. That was still too much for Kamijou Misaki's liking.

Up and down, then, down and up, both of her closed hands traveled. Kiss after kiss, and lick after lick, Touma's moaning grew louder, and more pleasured, by the minute. With both of his hands on her head, his wife occasionally physically encouraged him, through a series of taps on his left wrist, to push her head downwards, so that she could take his manhood deep into the depths of her throat.

Finally, the change of positions was felt by both parties. Kamijou Misaki felt her husband's manhood begin to throb. From the bottom of its shaft, to the top of its head, the thing pulsated, and shook slightly.

"B-beautiful, I'm going to cum," Touma casually announced, his rate of breathing increasing, as he grabbed at his wife's hair, tugging on it gently enough to pleasure her, but not anywhere near enough to cause her any sort of pain. Even when on the border of orgasm, Kamijou Touma still subconsciously knew just how to handle his beloved with caution, and care.

Misaki swiftly removed her lips from the tip of Kamijou Touma's manhood, and relinquished her grip on it, somewhat reluctantly. Looking to her husband, there were globs of a clear, thick liquid dripping down her lower lip. Kamijou Touma's wife grinned. She was going to enjoy this roleplaying session, too, just as much as her husband was. Running her tongue over her lips, and across her chin, she cleared the liquid, and swallowed, slowly, holding the droplets in her throat, for some seconds, before she passed them all the way down.

"Ohhhhhhhohoho! You think I was going to allow you to cum that easily, commoner-boy? Beg. Beg your Queen for the right to cum in her mouth. Have you been staring at my ass, too, while I was laying on my belly? Dirty, filthy peasant. I bet you want to slap a condom on, and fuck it, while you spank it, until it's red. Do you want to fuck me in the ass? You are so disgusting, peasant. I… I bet you even want to cum in it, too. Ugh! You are appalling."

"I do want to. I know I can't, though, because I'm so much lower than you. I'd be lucky if you let me jerk off to you," Touma muttered, desperation in his voice. His hands moved towards his manhood, but, Misaki quickly shook her head.

"No. No masturbating, peasant boy. You only masturbate when I tell you to, and when I give you permission. Besides, we're in public. In a sense. I hope someone sees us. I hope someone like Itsuwa-san, or Kanzaki-san sees us. Maybe Misaka-san and Shirai-san will see us, and want to join us, in an orgy. Maybe Sanctis-san will see us, and faint."

Somehow, for some reason, likely because his mind was completely under the control of his physical needs, an orgy actually sounded like a really good idea, to Kamijou Touma. The idea of being able to show his wife off, as well as her constant desire to take his manhood, was an appealing one. The jealous faces of his fellow males filled his mind. Kamijou Touma grinned, slightly, almost malevolently.

"You're rubbing off on me, beautiful. Eight years ago, I never could've imagined thinking like this. Never could've imagined fucking in public, either. Well, partially in public. Not really. Not really fucking either. Kinda curious to know how Misaka and Shirai get off, too, now that you mention it. Do they… do they use a double-ended dildo, or something? Maybe they eat each other out. Man, that's weird. Why am I thinking about them like that? Oh well. Just curious, I guess. No harm in it."

"Please, Ojou-Sama? Can I please cum? Please? If I don't cum, I'm going to get blue balls. I'm so close. Can you please swallow my cum, Ojou-Sama, so I don't make a mess? It's… it's good for you! It's got protein!"

Misaki held back a giggle. She didn't want to break character, after all. "Corny husband. You are going to ruin our fantasy. It is okay. If you do, I forgive you. I will always forgive you."

"Just because you asked so nicely. At least you know your manners, peasant-boy," Misaki responded, with a confident, haughty huff.

A few tugs, with her right hand, and a number of long, soft kisses later, and Kamijou Touma seized up. Quickly removing his hands from within the strands of his wife's hair, he wrapped his left hand around Misaki's own available hand, and interlocked his fingers with hers. His entire body was shaking. With his head thrown back, he began to groan, loudly, the vocalizations long, and pleasured, in their sound, as Kamijou Misaki's entire stomach began to flutter, like butterflies were beating their wings, and crashing against the inner walls of the organ.

She loved bringing her husband to the point of climax. An orgasm was the ultimate enjoyment. That's all she ever wanted, for him. Misaki just wanted her everything to enjoy himself, after all that they'd been through together. He deserved enjoyment, and so much more. Her husband deserved everything the world had to offer him on a silver platter.

"Do you want to cum for me? I can feel you! You are so close, now! Just a tiny bit more!" Misaki exclaimed, excitedly, panting, her breaths quick, and labored. "Cum for me, baby! Let your wife have all of that perfect, thick semen. All mine. Your semen belongs to me. I want all of it, as much of it as I can get. Bathe me in it. Cum inside of me, all over my back! Cum for me! Ah, you have so much stamina! You are unbreakable! Fuck, I LOVE it! I love having to work for your cum! Ah, there's always so MUCH! I want to swallow it all! I cannot wait until I am riding you, and working your testicles dry, again! I love you, Touma! I love you so… so fucking much!"

"F…fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck… FUCK. I love you, oh fuck. I'm cumming. I love you, Misaki, I fucking love you so much. FUCK, I'm cumming so much… don't choke, you're so beautiful, fuck, I love you! It feels so fucking GOOD! BEST! WIFE! EVER!"

Like foam sprayed from the nozzle of a firehose, Kamijou Touma's seed filled his wife's mouth. Sweet, and salty-tasting, Misaki, cheeks glowing pink, moaning loudly, in absolute ecstasy, began to swallow the expunged seed. Her eyelids split open, as her starry eyes rolled back, into her skull. She was in heaven. Her heart was beating quickly, and small droplets of sweat had formed on her forehead. Trickling down, her moaning continued, partially-obstructed, by what thick, white, milky liquid remained in her mouth. She wanted to gargle it, then, she wanted to rip her sleeveless top off, and spit it onto her breasts. She wanted to use it as lubricant.

"So much warm, thick cum… you are amazing…" Following one, long, final gulp, Kamijou Misaki licked what remained of the expunged reproductive fluid away, happily swallowing it, as well, wetness forming in her femininity, and bringing moisture to her panties. She then smiled; it hardly looked like anything had happened at all. A thorough cleaning indeed.

"Best husband ever. I love you too, so much. I'm glad I could help you feel good. It was only fair that I repaid you, for the… service… you performed, on my own body. You are so handsome. I wish I could answer your call, and service you, whenever you needed it. I want to be your little helper, Touma. I want to drop to my knees, whenever you call for me, and give you as many handjobs, and as many blowjobs as you want, whenever you want them… look at me, becoming all submissive. That is your job, husband."

Touma quickly pulled his undergarments, and his pants back up, shelving his manhood until it would next be needed; Touma hoped that the wait wouldn't be a long one. "I want to kiss you so badly, but… yeah. No. We need to visit a bathroom, or something. Rinse with some very, very warm water. Man, this was really weird, but… I kind of really enjoyed the weirdness."

"Agreed," Misaki giggled, rising up from her position on the seat, and stretching. "I love kissing you, as well. I wish we could spend an entire week simply laying in bed with you, I just want to be kissing, cuddling… making love… but, we will need to sanitize, first. We are both dirty-mouths. Of course, you are hardly anywhere near done with licking. In the end, sanitization might just be for naught. That tongue of yours is going to have plenty of work to do."

"Yeah? Is that so? That's good. I want it. I want to fucking taste you. I wasn't kidding about the porno, either," Touma stated. "I'm actually down. You think I don't want to show you off? Fuck yeah, I want to show you off. I want everyone to know that I'm the only man who's ever going to touch you."

Producing a pleasured, contented sigh, Misaki wrapped her arms around her husband's waist. Touma placed his own right arm protectively around his wife's shoulder, and held her as close as he physically could, the fingers of his left hand falling to Misaki's left arm. He slowly ran the tips of his left hand's fingers over his wife's arm, gently tracing small lines. Kamijou Misaki produced a soft vocalization, as she nuzzled Kamijou Touma.

"You are the only man I could ever want, the only man I have ever wanted," Misaki spoke. "I want everyone to know that. I want to actually "leak" this one. It is so dirty, so perverted… I love it. I want everyone to see, and know that we are beyond their expectations."

Kamijou Misaki felt like she was falling more and more in love with Kamijou Touma, as he began to nuzzle her in return; he tightened his right arm's grip around her shoulders, and rubbed his nose against Misaki's right cheek.

"I love how affectionate you always are, how unconditional your love for me, for our family is. I love how cuddly you get, after you experience an orgasm, for me. Please, do not ever change. You are perfect just the way you are, baby. You are the definition of the word "perfect".

Fighting back the urge to kiss his wife, Touma settled for rubbing his nose against her cheek. "Don't plan to, beautiful. I don't want you to ever change, either. You're always so unconditionally loving with me, too. I love it. I need it. You, Index, Othi-chan, you're my happiness. Especially you… my love for you, and my love for Index and Othi-chan are really different. Not lesser than one another, just different. You know? You were the first one to step into my life, and break down all of the stupid barriers I'd put up around me. I'm glad you did. I'm so glad you did. I can't even explain how glad I am that you did. I adore you, Misaki."

"Whenever you speak your heart, and your mind to me," Misaki remarked, softly, eyes becoming moist, and closing, in an attempt to push the moisture back, "you just cause my body and mind to want to make love to you. Before I met you, on that fateful summer's day, Kamijou Touma, I'd often wondered what love was like. It was soon after I saw your face, for the first time, that I learned. I adore you too, Touma.

"Speaking of… back then, however… eheheh… Did I ever apologize for hitting you with my purse?"

"More than once," Touma remarked, chuckling quietly. "It's okay, beautiful, I promise. We were just two kids, fooling around. It didn't really even hurt that much, and you didn't hit me that hard. If you hit me with your purse, right now, well, that would hurt. That would hurt a LOT. You've got a heck of a swing, you know."

"Oh, Touma! I never would!" Misaki exclaimed, cuddling closer to her husband, and increasing the rate in which she nuzzled him. "I never want to hurt you. I do want to make you scream for me, but I want those screams to be of pleasure, not of pain. I just want to take care of you, my big, cuddly bear."

Kamijou Misaki's body was warm, and comforting for Kamijou Touma to hold onto. She'd been right, as always, of course; post-orgasm, Touma always did quickly begin seeking a cuddling session. Further supporting his "best wife ever" thesis was the fact that Misaki was always ready and willing to switch gears, in order to jump efficiently from "sex mode" to "cuddling mode". She was a miracle worker.

"Bear, huh? I guess I am just a big, old teddy bear," Touma remarked, with a hearty, deep laugh. "So, how are you feeling, beautiful? Satisfied? I hope so. This was all kind of beyond our usual comfort zones, but… there was something really enjoyable about this. The possibility of being caught, however small, was definitely there, and it made everything more intense. Am I making sense?"

"You are. You always speak sensibly. I agree; the intensity was absolutely thrilling. I think we might need to engage in this sort of behavior more often… I am beyond satisfied," Misaki remarked, releasing a long, contented sigh. "I was craving you since we stepped foot out of our home this morning. I was craving you as soon as we ceased our previous lovemaking session. If I could perpetually make love to you, nonstop, I would do so. On the topic of foot, or, feet, let us have a talk about fetishes."

"Fetishes?" Touma inquired. "Where's this coming from? Not that I mind. I have, like, one, if you count me liking your legs a lot as a fetish. Y'know, "breast fetishes" and fetishes involving female genitalia are technically "weird" fetishes, too; kind of. Not really? I'm definitely trying to stall for time."

"Touma, baby," Misaki spoke, softly. "There is no need to stall. If you are not comfortable discussing kinks you, yourself are not entirely familiar with, with me, you do not have to. It was simply something I thought I would bring up, given the circumstances… hehehe. The last thing I would want to do is make you feel uncomfortable, my love. When, and if you are ready, we will discuss it."

With a smile, Kamijou Misaki shrugged. "I just want to know if there is anything else I could do, involving my feet, that would get you off. I know you like it, when I rub them all over your manhood, and stimulate you with them. You can cum all over them, any time that you want. I welcome it. You can do anything you'd like, with any part of my body. Anything, anywhere. I welcome it all. Explore me all you'd like."

Touma sighed in defeat. His inner male got the better of him yet again. It was just so weird! It wasn't normal. Kamijou Touma wasn't some sort of deviant, for crying out loud! There was no way he could step into the realm of the Musujimes, or Aogami. Then again, was licking his wife's legs in order to achieve a "different" kind of sexual gratification "normal"? What was "normal", even? Normal was just a word. Why base his sex life, and that of his wife's, around a word? "I… uh… I think it would be easier for me, to, uh, just show you, when we get home. I think I'd feel a lot more comfortable… you know, experimenting, in our room. A bit more romantic, too. Yeah, I'm a drag, I know."

Misaki rubbed the tip of her nose against her husband's. Apparently, until their mouths could be sanitized, this would have to be the equivalent of an affectionate kiss. "You are no drag. You are so, so sweet, and so absolutely adorable. I think I would like such an exploration to be conducted in a safe, romantic environment, as well. I understand completely, baby. If, even then, you still do not feel comfortable, there is no pressure on you. There never is. Your wants, needs, and emotions are just as important as mine."

"And vice versa," Touma remarked. "Thanks for understanding, beautiful. You'd think, in my mid twenties, I'd have a better understanding of myself, of my sexuality, and everything like that. I… I know my, uh, growth was kind of stunted, before we started dating. That's something I'm realistic enough to admit. Maybe that's got something to do with it. I always felt like it was something I couldn't work with, like it was something forbidden. I guess… I guess I just tried to lock it all up. Maybe it screwed me up, a bit? When everyone else my age was experimenting with themselves, I was kind of, like, "no?"

Without removing her nose from her husband's, Misaki smiled, widely, and looked deeply into Touma's eyes. His dark irises reflected the sea of multicolored neon beyond them. They reflected her own face, and her big, starry eyes. They reflected her enormous, unfalteringly, unquestioningly adoring smile.

"Yes, you did lock it all up. You did hold back, when other young men were, as you worded the matter, "experimenting". However, you had good reason for doing so. You were trying to be responsible. As always. You have always been much more mature than those around you, Touma. That is just an honest observation.

"Every new day is a learning experience. Every day that I spend with you, as your wife, and as your friend, I find that I learn new things about myself. We are creatures who live to learn, and learn to live."

"Smartie pants," Touma chuckled. He was constantly being blown away by her intelligence. Every time he thought his wife couldn't become any more intelligent, she shattered that illusion without even trying. "You're so smart, you know that? It doesn't surprise me, these days. You just get smarter and smarter. It's really a turn-on. I love being able to discuss deep subjects with you, ones that make me think.

"Like, aliens. You think there're aliens, Misaki? Monitoring us? You think they're friendly? Little silver men, or, the big, nasty green ones without eyes, and way too many teeth? Maybe they'd be just like us. You know, different skin colors, eye colors, hair, all that."

Misaki looked to the ceiling, as she moved away, a few inches, from her husband. In her left hand, she took her husband's right, and began to softly massage its palm between her fingers. Kamijou Misaki raised her right hand's index finger to her lower lip, as she produced a soft, curious-sounding vocalization.

"Certain stories, such as the explanation given for the images captured during the "the Battle of Los Angeles" do not quite add up. Still, I believe there is a rational explanation for all things in this world, my love. Well, for the most part. There are some things that simply cannot be explained, even by a rational mind. Archangels, meteor-throwing Magic Gods, and naked, veil-wearing serpent-women are among those things that cannot be explained."

"I don't hate a lot of things, beautiful, but I really do hate those snake-girls," Touma mumbled, an unusual chill rushing through his bones. His form awkwardly shuddered, as he looked left, and then right, as if he was afraid that the monsters would sneak out, from beneath him, seeking his blood. "So many fangs. So many tails. So much poison. If it hadn't been for Imagine Breaker… yeah, I'd rather not think about that one."

"There are no serpent-women here," Misaki spoke, softly. "Just us. There are no threats, here. Just love. My big, strong, cuddly husband, nothing will hurt you, so long as I am here."

Touma nodded, his lips curling into a warm, welcoming smile. He nuzzled the side of his wife's head, inhaling the intoxicating smell of her blonde, honey-scented hair, as he did so. Leaning backwards, Kamijou Touma folded his arms behind the back of his head, and rested his head against them. With his arms leaning against the interior of the lift car, he nodded his head, upwards, raising his eyebrows.

Wordlessly, a smiling Kamijou Misaki crawled into her husband's lap, facing him. Wrapping her arms around his torso, Misaki set the left side of her face against his torso, and produced a soft, quiet vocalization, a small "mm." Nuzzling Touma's torso with the side of her face, Misaki's eyelids slowly closed shut.

The remainder of their ride was one of comfortable silence. Though Kamijou Misaki ended up dosing off, still cuddling closely to her husband even in her light slumber, Touma remained awake, and looked out, from the lift car's interior, to Academy City beyond.

The sun was no longer present, in the sky. It had taken the daylight it provided with it, and left an oddly eerie, moonlit darkness behind. Touma could see the odd start in the sky, sparkling. He wondered just how far away they really were, from the surface of the planet he lived on. He felt like he was oddly small, in comparison to the wide, endless realm known simply as "space" beyond the atmosphere of his species' cradle.

There was one object, floating perpetually in the sky, slowly following the lift car he and his wife had engaged in their lude acts within, which Kamijou Touma had failed to notice. He couldn't have been blamed for doing so; it was constantly moving around the lift car, constantly remaining just out of sight. Not even Misaki had seen it.

It was a small drone. White, in coloration, along its surfaces, thick, dark blue-colored lines ran from one end to the other. Above all four of its small, white-colored triangular wings, one of which sat in all four of the piece of tech's corners, there was a singular, perpetually spinning propeller. Attached to the front of the drone's surface, there was a dark-colored bulb, constructed of glass, which reflected the brightness of the flashing neon lights beneath it.

It had been recording the entire time. The party recording the Kamijous' mating ritual meant them no harm, however. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to join them in their pleasurable escapades.

Somewhere, in a certain Supreme Superintendent's personal quarters, an absolutely stunning beauty sat, on a tall, luxurious, dark-colored, throne-like chair. Black, in coloration, the practical, formal throne was constructed of leather and dark-colored, reflective metal. This beauty, with long, black hair, tied in a messy bun, that flopped to one side of her head, repeatedly inserted a small, pink-colored, vibrating, vaguely phallic-shaped object into herself, with her right hand, moaning aloud, as she did so. With her left hand, she massaged her left breast, repeatedly, gently tugging on its soft, red nipple.

In her mind's eye, Kamijou Misaki was sucking on it, as Kamijou Touma had been sucking on Kamijou Misaki's nipple. In her mind's eye, rather than a vibrating piece of plastic, the object she used for self-pleasure was, in fact, not an object at all. It was Kamijou Touma's manhood.

"C-can't w-we have a t-three-way m-marriage? I w-want… you… b-both of y-you… Ah! Too deep! Too deep! O-ouch."

It seemed that "the Grand Kingdom" didn't have much of a nightlife to it. The light brown, cobblestone walkways of the "Den of Debauchery" section, represented in the lower, left hand corner of the map, depicted on the Kingdom's many map signs, which were scattered throughout "the Grand Kingdom", were mostly clear of pedestrians.

It wasn't beyond one of those few pedestrians who were present, namely, Kamisato Kakeru, to comment on this fact. There was ice to be broken, and, break it he would, so that he could get to the wondrous female form that lurked just beneath the surface of the proverbial icefield.

"Not a lot of people around," Kakeru stated, attempting to break the awkward silence. "I expected something a bit more… sinful. With a name like "the Den of Debauchery", I was partly expecting to meet with orgies in the streets, and drunkards wandering about, aimlessly."

"Don't know where you've been looking," Floris responded, her hands stuffed aggressively, and quite roughly into the pockets of her uniform's pants, "I've seen a few drunks."

"Almost as red-faced as I am… I need to figure out what I'm even doing. I need to stop sending Kamisato-san all these stupid, mixed signals. I need to make a decision and stick with it."

Kakeru shrugged, indifferently. He'd royally screwed himself over. He'd need to engage in some real tactical maneuvers in order to get Floris's legs back open. Losing her wasn't an option. Her unique, monolithic posterior was one in a million, and, he wanted to bury his face, among other parts of his body in it. That wasn't going to happen, if Floris remained cold, and distant. Where was "Kamisato Disease", when he needed it most?

"So. Where are we going? I said, that I was going to take you out, this evening, and, I still intend to. Everything, so far, has been… undesirable. This park's bars are a joke. Perhaps, some sort of family restaurant would be better idea? What do you think, Floris-san?"

"I think," Floris began, but, soon, her words drifted off. She'd been quick to jump the gun. Floris had nowhere to go, no point to make, besides the point that obviously needed to be made, if she was going to get anywhere with Kamisato Kakeru. That, for some reason, unknown to Floris's higher mind, was easier said than done. Regardless, she swallowed her stubborn pride, and spoke her piece, as best as she could, as best as she knew how.

"Why dodge the issue?"

Kakeru raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head to the side, inquisitively.

"The issue of what happened, earlier, when you used your hand to get rid of that girl, and then, to get rid of that… weird man. Do you not have control over your hand? I remember something about a switch."

Passing by a small collection of structures, adult-oriented facilities, mostly, including an apparently functioning "brothel" – surely, this "Uncle Bob's Brothel" had to be some kind of odd performance art gone awry – Kakeru produced a soft "hmm." He had to take a moment to think, to contemplate, and to answer the questions posed to him as carefully as possible. Kakeru felt like he was diffusing a ticking time bomb; even if he was a skilled technician, Kamisato Kakeru was still under pressure.

He looked away from Floris, and to the structures they passed by, as if they could possibly give him the answers he sought. Tightly packed, the rows of structures flanked either side of the cobbled walkway.

Accessed by staircases of concrete, or possibly some sort of advanced Academy City-exclusive concrete substitute, the adult-oriented facilities were square-shaped, simplistic in their design. Their respective fronts were metallic, dark in coloration, and contained large panes of glass, which offered passersby glimpses into the interiors of the facilities.

Each concrete, or concrete substitute staircase lead up to a large, reinforced metallic door, some of which were open, some of which were closed. All of the structures' interiors were illuminated; those with their doors open allowed rays of golden, synthetic light to escape into the world beyond their interiors.

Atop the structures, neon lights, arranged in patterns, to form words, and symbols, bathed the former New Light operative, and the Bearer of the World Rejector in their glows. Some were flashing, others were static, continuously producing a solid, unyielding glow of multicolored neon.

"There's a lot to explain, Floris-san," Kakeru finally remarked. He still didn't have any sort of strategy. In a way, Kakeru felt almost guilty for treating this young woman as if she was some sort of vault, that needed to be cracked with time and patience. Kakeru, despite the power in his right hand, and, despite his many heroics, was still a mere man; and men always had weaknesses, vices, to hold them back, and drag them down. Why this odd sense of remorse was hitting him, at this point, of all the points in time, Kakeru didn't know.

For all intents and purposes, Kamisato Kakeru was going in blind. This would be his first time in a long time in which he'd do so. He offered the young, golden-haired woman next to him his left hand, fingers open. He wore a neutral facial expression, but held himself confidently, his back arched, his shoulders casually set in a natural position.

Inwardly, Kakeru was nervous. The switch in his courtship ritual's mechanics was swift, and unexpected. If he was going to expose himself, and allow himself to be vulnerable, despite his gut telling him to stick with "plan A" – "plan A" entailing the continued objectification of this woman – he'd need to at least manage to keep his cool.

"Go on. I insist. Take my hand. I'll try to put everything into perspective for you, Floris-san."

Somehow, even if she'd witnessed this young man literally make two people completely disappear, just minutes apart from one another, even if he hadn't, and still didn't seem very torn up about it, Floris still found herself blushing, and looking to her mud-covered shoes, and the brown-colored, cobbled walkway beneath them.

"It almost feels like something is compelling me… what is it about this guy that's driving me so crazy? Why do I still just want nothing more than to fuck his brains out? Why has it always been so hard to stay mad at him?!"

Floris's hand was reaching out, towards Kamisato Kakeru's, before she even consciously realized that the extremity seemed to be moving of its own accord. With the palm of her right hand set in his right, Kakeru smirked, in the young woman's direction.

"It's okay, Floris-san. Let it happen. I won't hurt you, I promise. Not all instances of a man and a woman interacting with one another need to play out like they do on the silver screen. Life is strange. Accept the strangeness for what it is, welcome it. Strangeness, going against "the norm" can be quite rewarding."

"D-does this happen t-to you o…o-often, Kamisato-san? I've always seen you b-being followed a-around by lots of… r-really attractive w-women," Floris stuttered, awkwardly. It felt good, her hand sitting in Kakeru's own. His skin was smooth, and soft, his hand's grasp on her own gentle. Floris's blush deepened, to an even darker shade of red, as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. Just what was happening to her, even?!

Floris started, and produced a sudden, startled vocalization. Swiftly, Kakeru had raised Floris's hand to his lips. He'd placed a kiss to the top of the extremity. His lips, of all the lips in the world, had connected with her skin. Her skin, the skin that belonged to the mortal form of Floris. Floris felt like she was on the verge of fainting.

"Y-you're moving so f-fast! W-we barely know each other! I don't mind… or do I? You're such a gentleman! What's even happening? Why am I so smitten? I want you, Kamisato-chan! Wait, chan?"

"You could say that. I'm involved in an… interesting, sometimes strenuous, but harmonious relationship. I suppose that's another thing I could talk about. You know, Floris-san, you're beautiful. I'm sure you know that, but, regardless, it's a compliment that's well-deserved. You're exotic. You have wonderful eyes, and your skin is so smooth, like the softest of fabrics. Your hair looks very soft, and extremely clean. Does it always fall, naturally, like that? Like the feathers of some majestic, avian creature?"

Kamisato Kakeru had it. He knew, in his heart, and in his mind, with years of experience to solidify his confidence, that the bomb had been diffused. He was getting closer, and closer. To what, though? Kakeru felt terrible, for having spent so long objectifying this woman, but, this change of heart felt so sudden. What had suddenly come over him? Perhaps, Floris wouldn't be the only party having their questions answered, or, at least, made known to another.

"T-thank… y-you… K-Kamisato-san… you're s-so sweet…" Floris mumbled, weakly. "L-look… bar, and g-grill. U-up there. L-let's grab something. I'm s-starving! You're making me so hungry, Kamisato-chan! This is all so strange… but I know I want this!"

A small band of drunken youths stumbled out of one of the facilities, which the duo had just happened to pass by, as Floris uttered her awkward, high-pitched confession.

"Yeah! Fuck her, dude! Oh, man, this motherfucker's so lucky! He's totally getting his cock sucked!" One of the young men exclaimed, completing his exclamation with a sharp, short laugh.

"Man, shut the fuck up," another scolded. He shoved his companion down the stairs, with a mighty, drunken thrust. Stumbling, the first of the group of youths tumbled down the concrete staircase, and crumpled, upon meeting the cobbled walkway.

"Dude! That was so much fun! Push me again, fucker!"

"You're insane! I love it! Come suck on my nuts, asshole!"

"This man looks like trash! You two have a good night, now!" The crumpled, hysterically laughing man shouted, in the direction of Kakeru, and Floris, the former of whom waved his free, right hand unenthusiastically.

"There are worse things that we could be doing," Kakeru remarked. "Do you drink, Floris-san? I generally don't. It's a bit of a timewaster."

"N-no," Floris lied. "I-I'm completely clean! No drinking, no illegal substances, no tobacco! Squeaky clean! Eheheheh…"

Kakeru rolled his eyes, unconvinced. Rubbing the top of Floris's hand with his thumb, which seemed to cause her to externally swoon, and sigh, happily, he spoke. "Are you sure? It was just a question. I'm not going to think less of you. Why would I? One person's life decisions are completely different from another's. Casual, social drinking his a very widely-practiced ritual. Consuming a few bottles of an alcoholic beverage doesn't make one an alcoholic, or a delinquent."

"He's really understanding. He's so smart, and philosophical, too… uh oh. He's prime game for Lessar. Why did the July Incident have to happen?! Lessar, go back to lusting after Kamijou! Stay away from my man! Wait… he's not m-my man! Not yet! Wait! HOLD IT! I swear to God I'll beat you worse than the other Kamijou did! SLUT!"

"Floris-san?" Kakeru inquired, gently. She seemed distracted. Though her long, beautiful legs continued their strides, effectively keeping her body moving at a brisk pace, she seemed distracted. Her big, sky blue eyes were staring at nothing, wide, and frenzied.

With a powerful yank, Floris stopped Kamisato Kakeru in his tracks.

"Is that the restaurant you were speaking of? We're nearly there. It's small, but, it'll do. Once we get our menus, you can just tell me what you'd like to have, and I'll order it. No issue. Don't concern yourself with paying me back. It's the least I can do. I've given you more than one unfortunate scare this day, Floris-san. Perhaps, once I've put everything into perspective for you, it'll all frighten you a bit less."

Floris listened to Kamisato Kakeru speak, patiently, hanging on his every word. His voice was deep, but not too deep. Manly, but not intimidating. It was smooth, and gentle, each word so soft in its pronunciation. Coupled with his almost musical, spoken Japanese, it was a sound that Floris could've fallen asleep to; but she was done with standing around.

She was done with blushing, and staring down at her feet. Kamisato Kakeru had taken her hand in his, and, even if she didn't know him that well, she knew she liked this feeling. Floris knew she wanted more. She didn't even know why, but, Floris knew she needed more. She absolutely needed it. Like a lioness who'd cornered her prey after a long, and exhausting hunt, Floris could practically taste him. The game became the hunter.

Then, she physically did begin to taste him. Though she screamed at herself, internally, her body didn't stop moving forward, rebelling against her higher mind's commands. Taking his right hand into her own hand – fortunately, for Floris, Kakeru had "switched" World Rejector off, some time following the "World Rejecting" of Vurthum's unfortunate frontman – Floris's lips connected with Kakeru's own. Floris couldn't have possibly known it, but, she was tasting the lips of at least a dozen other women.

Floris's lips smacked against Kakeru's, loudly, as her entire face became beet red, in coloration, her eyes watering. Kakeru silently cried victory; he'd done it again. His life really was like a galge; but that wasn't a bad thing. For Kamisato Kakeru, it was his many lovers, or no lover at all. He'd leave the boredom of monogamy to his betters – namely, the Kamijous.

Then again, they'd never seemed to be bored with one another. In fact, they were the opposite of such a sweeping generalization. They were madly in love, even after so many years of being together. That was their thing, that was how they loved; and that was fine. A boring idea, to Kamisato Kakeru, but, fine.

Kakeru exerted control over his body, and over his mind. It was beyond difficult. He wanted nothing more than to reach behind Floris, and finally grasp her posterior in his hands, squeeze it, feel the plump, firm-looking thing against his palms. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. His heart was beating, quickly, as his eyes awkwardly twitched, slightly. He could feel them moving, as if little insects were traveling beneath his face.

"K-Kamisato-chan…" Floris spoke, through her awkward kisses. Her lips continued to smack against Kakeru's, loudly. Saliva, which had built up around her tongue glopped, as it slapped against Kakeru's own. She had considerably less restraint than he did. Her hands had grasped the back of Kakeru's head, and, her fingers were running through his hair, slowly, passionately. Floris adored every second of it. "I-I'm sorry! I d-didn't mean to… I lost my self-control, and… I m-moved too fast. I-it's just, that, I-I… I've been i-in l-l… l-love with you, s-since I first m-met you. I d-don't know why. I j-just have. I-I've n-never felt like this b-before… y-you're a really good kisser… k-keep k-kissing m-me… your lips are s-so soft…"

Floris forcibly broke away. She wasn't going to look away from him. Floris reached out, and grasped at her inner strength. Indomitable, no-nonsense Floris was dragged out into the fields of battle. Her blue eyes looked into Kamisato Kakeru's own. His irises were dark, almost tree bark brown in coloration. "I c-can't believe I just did that. Oh my G-God… I'm s… so, sorry. I don't want to make this weird. I… I've always had a hard t-time controlling myself, around you. I wish I understood it b-better. I'm not usually l-like this, I swear."

"It's okay. Let's analyze this situation. Breathe, Floris-san. I can tell," Kakeru chuckled. "I can tell. I've always been able to tell. Think of it as a sixth sense. It's okay, you can let it happen. I won't hurt you, Floris-san. This is all a learning experience. Let yourself come out of that hardened shell, just for a little bit. Relax with me. Let me take you on a trip through these feelings of yours. Let me help you explore the inner machinations of your sexuality, and your desires."

"C-can we k-keep walking? I w-want to keep walking. The air is r-really nice tonight! Fresh! C-chilly, b-but fresh!" Floris exclaimed, feverishly. "I-is this a d-date? Are we on a… a date? I've never b-been on a date, before. I-I've never really been… romantic, before. N-Never gave m-myself the chance."

"No? In that case, I suppose this is a date, then. If you'd like it to be. I see no reason why it can't be."

"I would like it to be."

Kakeru rolled his shoulders, as the duo passed the restaurant by, continuing on their way. A stroll it would be, then. "In that case, let's talk. Just you and I, Floris-san. I'll begin. What happened with the young woman, earlier, in our day? The answer is a simple one. Yet, it's difficult for me to speak it."

Floris craned her head to the side, her eyes locking with Kakeru's own.

"You were correct; the force residing in my right hand is, indeed, controlled by what I like to compare to a lightswitch, at least in concept. This force, "World Rejector", can be "switched", on and off, like a lamp. I didn't forget to "switch" it off. I purposefully had it enabled, with the intention of using World Rejector to speedily deal with Vurthum's frontman.

"The young woman who happened to physically meet with World Rejector was collateral damage. It was a mistake. A true shame. I take full responsibility for the action. It will weigh on me for… some time. A long time, for whatever that might be worth to you. I apologize. I was wrong, and, my hot-headedness cost someone, potentially many people dearly.

"As for Vurthum's frontman? He was a danger to himself, and to others. Aggressive, and unhinged. The world he resides in now, whatever that world may be, is far better suited to his lifestyle, and to his mental state. It was an act of mercy. I know many things about "Ideal Worlds". A bit too much, in fact. I spent time in one, myself."

Floris's hand tightened around Kakeru's, though, she didn't know it. With an awkward gulp, she looked up to the sky. Her blush was still existent, though, it had calmed, as had she. Taking a deep breath, Floris would attempt to assemble a coherent sentence, and stutter as little as possible.

"You used your hand, your World Rejector, on yourself? Why? Is that even possible?" Floris inquired. She felt quite proud; not even a single stutter.

"Not quite," Kakeru remarked, in response, his form shuddering, unusually. He shook his head, and puffed out a breath of air. He seemed uncharacteristically shaken. Afraid, almost.

Floris wrapped her arm around Kakeru's, and looked to him, concern in her big, blue eyes. "Kamisato-chan… I mean, Kamisato-san, are you alright? What was that all about? That was quite the shake. I've never… seen you like this before."

"It's surreal," Kakeru answered, cryptically, before he began to explain himself, in greater detail. "It's something I don't like thinking about often. I didn't use World Rejector on myself. Such a thing wouldn't be possible. It was used against me. A terribly long story. Would you be surprised to know that I owe our esteemed friends, the Kamijous, more than one life?"

"Those two have a knack for involving themselves in business that doesn't concern them," Floris answered, quickly. "I'm sure you could've handled yourself, Kamisato-san. You're very capable. So strong… so handsome…"

"Actually," Kakeru began, snapping Floris out another would-be trance, "due to… complicated circumstances, involving matters of time, space, and the gaps within these concepts, "escaping" from a "new world" is nearly impossible, without outside assistance. Am I missing something, Floris-san? Is there some type of bad blood? Forgive my ignorance. I've always assumed, but, never wished to make my assumptions known. You know what they say about assuming making "an ass of you and me."

"We've had some difficulties," Floris stated, purposefully attempting to be vague. She hoped Kakeru would drop the subject. She wanted to go back to talking about him; more importantly, she wanted to talk about him, and herself.

Kakeru seemed to have caught on easily enough. With a soft exhalation of carbon dioxide, he turned the corner, passing by a tall, black-colored streetlamp, and avoiding a group of drunken, rowdy youths, one of whom appeared to be wearing the silver-colored, reflective lid of a trashcan atop his head. A young woman wore a colorful, yellow and orange bed sheet over her shoulders, with a yellow-colored lampshade on her head. Her front teeth protruded from her mouth, and, her hands were slipped into either of her makeshift "sleeves". Her eyes were squinted.

"Ching chong chow! You buy fish, yes?" The young woman exclaimed, barely able to contain her intoxicated laughter.

Kakeru sighed, and shook his head. Floris, still hand in hand, and arm in arm with the confident, self-controlled dreamboat glared daggers at the youths, who simply continued stumbling, occasionally falling to the ground, before picking themselves up and continuing on their way.

"How insulting. Not only to more than one culture, but, to the insulter themselves. They'll wake up to regret their actions, I'm certain. Foolishness spreads like wildfire, on social media. I've seen it happen firsthand. Lives can be ruined, Floris-san."

"That makes two of us," Floris explained. "A… "friend" of mine… lots of alcohol. Bukkake. Posted an entire album of pictures of herself covered in… man-paste. No shame, either." Floris awkwardly swallowed her own saliva, and tried to distract herself from the mental imagery that was rushing through her mind's eye. She was failing the task she'd set out to perform, and was paying the price. The image of Lessar, face, hair, and bosom smeared with the semen of dozens of different men, according to the description the album had been given, at least, her hands held up, the index, and middle finger of each making a cutesy 'V' sign invaded Floris's thoughts. Floris could've vomited.

"I suppose, as long as the act was one in which all parties consented, there's no harm in it," Kakeru spoke, rolling his shoulders. "Still, that is quite embarrassing, and, degrading. Such acts should be confined to the privacy of an enclosed space, or, on the front page of an adult-oriented website, where such content is expected to be found. Small children often use social media as a means of communicating with friends. No child should have to see a sight like that."

"L-let's… let's talk about something else?" Floris suggested, giggling awkwardly. "I-I have an idea! I don't think we've passed by this bar before."

Floris motioned towards the structure in question.

"Absolutely. If you'd like to change the subject, we can. Hungry? Thirsty? Just tell me what you'd like. This date, if that is what you would still like this to be, is on me."

"T-that's exactly what I want this to be. I really want to get to know you better, Kamisato-san. Y-you had me at h-hello." Floris's blush returned with a vengeance, her cheeks lightning up, like someone had sewn bright, red, Christmas bulbs into her face. Increasing her arm's grip around Kakeru's own, unintentionally causing him just a bit of discomfort, she dragged him along behind her, as she approached the bar in question.

Crammed between two other structures, the left of which was a lingerie shop, and the right of which was an "alternative fertility product vendor", according to the small, white plastic sign, with its bright red Japanese characters, and English cursive text, that sat beneath the structure's larger, flashing neon sign.

The facility that had gained Floris's attention was, indeed, a bar of some type. It wasn't a particularly large structure by any stretch of the imagination. Only about the size of the average, two story home in Academy City, it couldn't have been any wider, either. It could've only been ten meters in length, from one end to the other.

Unlike a lot of the other structures in "the Den of Debauchery", which were constructed of dark-colored, reflective metal and panes of glass, this bar in particular was constructed partially of light-colored metal, combined with wooden beams, which looked like they'd been cut from mahogany trees, given their dark coloration.

Though there were panes of glass on the front of the structure, they were much smaller than those of the structure's neighbors. Each was separated from the other by wooden beams; in total, there we eight panes of glass. Four, on the left side of the structure, four, on the other. The structure's roof was quite flat, and, large ventilation systems, as well as what looked like an external heating system to Floris sat atop the structure, periodically producing long-running, low, booming noises.

At the front of the bar's roof, no neon signs were present. Instead, the bar's advertisement sign resembled a simplistic billboard. Made up of somewhat rusty metallic beams, the billboard depicted the image of a barren, desert wasteland. The sky above the cracked, scorched earth was bright blue, without a single cloud in sight.

Cacti were visible, dotting the charred-looking, orange landscape. Some were tall, with multiple limbs protruding, while others were smaller, with pink flowers atop them, with only a single limb on either of their sides.

Mountains, dark brown in coloration, rose up from the charred earth, pointing towards the painted sky. Their tips were surrounded with vaguely smoke-like circles, which were, perhaps, supposed to represent clouds that had formed around the peaks of the mountains.

The most standout features of this miniature billboard atop the bar was a cartoonish cowboy, short in stature, with a twirled, black mustache, and a piece of wheat hanging out from his mouth, clenched between his left molars. His left eye was closed, or, possibly missing, the eyebrow above it raised, almost suggestively. In his clenched, right hand, the cowboy held a small, single-handed firearm, the front sight, and barrel of which was pointed in the direction of the viewer.

Next to the cowboy's head, there was a large, white speech bubble, with a small, white arrow, which pointed in the cowboy's direction. Floris was able to read the English text, as well as the Japanese characters beneath; the symbols beneath the Japanese characters looked almost runic, and were beyond Floris's knowing.

"Thirsty, pardner? Step on in to Winner's, and wet that there pallet of yers!"

Kakeru apparently lacked any sort of witty remarks, in regards the bar's advertising vehicle.

Floris was going to make this a topic of conversation. This evening of hers was turning out to be strange enough, anyways. A little banter about a subject that likely only peaked her interest, and hers alone wouldn't hurt.

"Seems a little silly, doesn't it? I'd go as far as to say stupid, but, it seems harmless enough. You think this is some sort of themed venue? I hope they don't make the poor employees dress up like cowboys and cowgirls. I've honestly seen worse. Have you ever been to the "bunny bar", in district four? It's so degrading."

Kakeru took a step ahead, walking up the fairly lengthy, mahogany-colored, wooden staircase, and, walking past the wooden tables, and chairs, set out across the bar's front deck, opened the front door of the bar, and held it open. He waved his hand forward, nonchalantly, causing Floris to blush. She could practically feel the heat forming in her face.

"In the months I've known you, Kamisato-chan, you've made me blush more than I ever have in my entire life… you're s-so… polite. Such a gentleman. So handsome. That face of yours is so perfect! I just want to kiss it off! I've never felt like this, before… ever… this is all so unfamiliar… it's kind of… uncomfortable. Don't use me, Kamisato-chan, please, don't t-take advantage of me…"

"Unfortunately, I have," Kakeru responded, once Floris had stepped through the bar's front door, and had taken her first strides into the structure itself. Allowing the front door to close behind him, stretching his right hand out, and catching the door, in order to prevent any sort of loud, obnoxious thuds, Kakeru returned to Floris's side, and slid his arm back around her own.

It was something of a ballsy step, and he knew it, but, Floris didn't seem to mind. She seemed to be acclimating quickly to the idea of romantic interactions. This was good; this was very good. She was a quick learner, and good at adapting to new, and unfamiliar situations. Kakeru could respect that greatly.

"A… companion once sought to work for a single day at said "bunny bar," Kakeru explained. "So that she could obtain the costume worn by employees; she succeeded."

More than one thought floated around in Floris's head. The loudest, however, was a thought composed of a single word, one lone, silent inquiry. "Companion?"

Despite the impressiveness of "the Grand Kingdom", this bar, "Winner's", or, at least, the small entranceway which lead into the lobby, a whole lot of which couldn't be seen by either the former New Light operative or the Bearer of the World Rejector, wasn't very impressive. It had a homey appearance to it, that much was certain, but, it wasn't ornate, or incredibly fancy. It was oddly simple, in a place that was anything but simple.

Its floors were constructed of individual planks of wood, each of which was colored an array of shades of brown; some light, and some dark. Small, black-colored grooves were present in the floors; just large enough to be noticed, but nowhere near large enough to cause any sort of footing mishaps.

Its walls were constructed of wooden planks, as well; at least, upon initial inspection, they seemed to be. Floris, curious, took a closer look, as she and Kakeru made their through the small entranceway. The wall's surfaces shined, beneath the dull, synthetic light beamed down by a singular, glass bulb that sat in the center of the simplistic, grey, illusion-breaking ceiling. They weren't wooden at all; rather, they were metallic, and had simply been painted to resemble the same wood beneath the duo's feet.

Before the wooden door that lead into the bar proper, there was a small, folding sign, its surface black, with chalk scribblings upon it. Its wooden legs were pressed up against the floors; apparently, the sign was moved often, as, near the sign's legs, there were noticeable, dark-colored scuffs on the floor.

"TONIGHT'S SPECIALITY: SKULLFREEZER" the sign proclaimed, the scribbled text's font large, and messy.

Kakeru took the lead, once again, and "allowed" Floris to enter the bar, by holding the door open, and, again, waving his hand forward, nonchalantly. Floris, blushing, awkwardly, did so, stepping past him, her mud-covered shoes stepping onto a somewhat messed, dark-colored carpet. Kakeru, as before, prevented the door from closing too quickly, by using his hand as a doorstopper.

The duo was greeted not by a human, but, by an enormous statue, its hand raised upwards, fingers stretched apart, in a jovial wave. It was the cowboy caricature from the bar's billboard; apparently, he'd escaped the confines of the second dimension, and had manifested in the third. The statue was surprisingly tall.

"That's disturbing."

Kamisato Kakeru reached out, his right hand extended.

Before he had the chance to make a victim of the lifeless statue, Floris grabbed him by the shoulder, and, with an irritated-sounding huff, dragged him along behind her. Her footfalls were heavy and quick, her strides purposeful.

Floris shook her head, as she passed a hallway, which lead to the bar's restrooms by. Her free, left hand was clenched into a fist.

Did he understand nothing? He'd just finished apologizing for his previous behavior, and, yet, he was at it again, at least in concept. Floris's aggressive, no-nonsense side emerged, in full force, taking Kamisato Kakeru by surprise.

"You're completely thick. Stubborn, and impulsive. Why have I got this thing for you, Kamisato-san? You can make things disappear with that hand, too, apparently, not just p-people, and here you are, waving it around all willy-nilly."

"Sorry? It's just what I do."


	16. Health, Love And Happiness

Floris breathed, in and out, deeply; inhaling, for a few seconds, and then, exhaling, for a few seconds. With Kamisato Kakeru's shoulder still held tightly in her grip, he was at her mercy. She could do just about anything she wanted. She was aggravated with him, certainly, but she didn't want to harm him. That was the last thing Floris wanted to do to him.

Perhaps "love" was too strong of a word, but Floris was certainly attracted to Kakeru. Why would she want to hurt the man she was attracted to? Though her instincts told her the man, with that annoying, creepy, impossible right hand of his deserved a thrashing, the rational part of Floris's mind told her something different. It told her to forgive, and forget, despite the wrongness of the situation, and regardless of those who'd been cast away.

Bar patrons, sitting in the wooden booths the two passed by chuckled, heartily at the sight; young love at it's finest. Two patrons, in particular, seemed to be chuckling amongst themselves. It was a wonderful sight, indeed. The youngling knew his place, that was for certain; both of the older, experienced men knew all about such things.

"What was the old expression, Arnold? "Happy wife, happy life?"

"Happy wife, happy life, Robert. Happy wife, happy life. Forget that lesson, and you die."

The first of the duo, whose name was apparently "Arnold", rose up from his seat. Clad, in a dark, leather jacket, a pair of dark, dirtied jeans, and a pair of mud-covered, steel-toed work boots, he wore a pair of darkened, tinted sunglasses on his face. His hair was slicked back, dark brown in coloration. The skin, roughly stretched over his face, bore many cuts, and large, fleshy scars, the most prominent of which ran from the top of his right cheek, to the same cheek's bottom, coming to an end near the right corner of his mouth.

"Got to leak. I'll be back."

Ignoring the snide comments, Floris finally let Kakeru go; rather than allowing him to stumble to the ground, she came to a halt, and extended her left arm. Such helpfulness was appreciated, but wasn't needed. Kakeru was able to swiftly steady himself.

"Where do you want to sit? Anywhere in particular?"

Kakeru shrugged. "Wherever you want. What can I say, in my defense? I'm not used to going with the flow. Sometimes, it's nice to let other people make decisions, create the flow, rather than creating it yourself."

Floris clicked her tongue, but didn't verbally respond to the comment.

The bar the duo found themselves within, Winner's, was quite spacious, on the inside; Floris had misjudged this small-looking structure. Along the edges of the bar's walls, there were spacious sitting booths, crafted of wood, with soft-looking, light-colored cushions on the booths' seats, and, on the booths' backrests. In the center of the bar's sitting area, there were a number of circular, wooden tables; approximately twelve, by the duo's respective, internal counts.

Spaced out, with a few feet of distance between one another, most of the tables were empty, their chairs turned to the side, having not been pushed in, properly, after those that'd been sitting at them had finished whatever task they'd set out to perform. Those that weren't still faced their respective tables, but, still weren't tucked in.

Kakeru felt a twinge of annoyance, followed by the urge to fix the furniture, which he swatted away; in his mind's eye, he could see spherical, little rubbery things, almost goblin-like creatures, being herded like sheep, by a large, outstretched hand.

Like the booths, that lined the bar's walls, the seats, and backrests, of the wooden chairs surrounding each table were cushioned; like the booths' seats, and backrests, those of the chairs looked just as comfortable to sit upon.

To the left of the wooden tables, and chairs, sat the bar, itself. With tall, metallic stools sitting in a neat row before it, the surfaces of which were shined to perfection, the long, wide, wooden bar was in impeccable condition. Behind the bar, a younger-seeming man leaned over a counter. Within a sink, silver in coloration, his hands were consumed by bluish-white suds. The counter, which contained the sink was made mostly of dark-colored, treated wood, while the counter's surface was constructed of what resembled light-colored limestone.

All things considered, the younger-seeming man was quite large. Tall, and musclebound, he wore a uniform strikingly similar to those worn by both Kamisato Kakeru and Floris.

He'd seemed to have forsaken the uniform's hat, as his full head of dark-colored hair was visible. Slightly messy, it looked like the younger-seeming man hadn't combed it, in some time. It stuck up on ends. Tufts rose upwards, and were bent, downwards. On the back of the younger-seeming man's neck, Floris was able to make out a large patch of something; a dark shade of purple, in coloration, the odd-looking growth was unsightly, and even a little bit sickening, to Floris, who quickly looked away, after observing it, for some few seconds.

Above the counter, there was a small window, which lead the duo's respective visions into an industrial area; at least, it looked rather industrial, in its appearance. The wooden, homey façade of the bar was lost; beyond this window, where the walls were sterile, and milky, in coloration, there wasn't much life to be seen.

As if to "apologize" for this fact, above the window, there were a series of shelves, which housed various, empty-looking bottles, which had once contained an alcoholic beverage. Shades of green, dark orange, and gold-colored glass melded together, on the smooth-looking, wooden shelves.

"Any booth in particular?" Kakeru inquired, folding his arms across his chest, and looking about, from left, to right.

"I k-kind of want a window seat," Floris admitted. That was as far as no-nonsense Floris was going to get. No-nonsense Floris threw her hands up, screamed, within Floris's mind, and left the S.S Floris's deck abandoned; in her place, awkward, love-struck Floris took the reigns, stumbling towards the proverbial steering wheel that controlled the young woman's actions. "It's… um… you know. It's pretty…"

"Romantic?"

Kamisato Kakeru had taken the words right out of Floris's mouth. She smiled, as her cheeks glowed a bright, crimson red. "Y-yeah. Romantic. It's romantic. T-this is a date, right? Why shouldn't the setting be romantic?"

Internally, the young woman was screaming aloud, in ecstasy, already crying victory. "It's a date I said it's a date I SAID IT! Go Floris! GO FLORIS! GO FLORIS! Make him yours, Floris! I should've been trying harder from the beginning! I can FIX HIM!"

Kakeru took Floris's left hand into his right. Again, she found herself descending back into that heavenly sensation she'd found herself falling in love with, her mind's racing slowing to a restrained crawl. Was it really Kakeru, as a person, or, the sensation he brought down upon her, whenever he was near, that she was falling in love with? Was love even the right word? She wanted to kiss him again, even if she knew that such contact was inappropriate. That was Floris's only mental answer to herself. She knew the answer to that question; the answer was an overwhelming, resounding yes.

To the right, past a few other patrons, many of whom were voraciously consuming hearty-looking, wonderful-smelling meals, chugging alcoholic beverages, or engaging in both activities, the former New Light operative, and the Bearer of the World Rejector walked to the right, past an uncleaned table, and, towards a booth. Not quite in the center of the wall, the booth was almost there; three other booths were ahead of it.

The third had taken the title of "being the booth in the center", if such a title actually existed; surely, only Floris's odd internalizations could come up with such a thing, and, surely, it only mattered in that small pocket-realm of existence.

Lifting one foot away from the floor, Floris settled herself into the booth's seat. Into the soft, light-colored seat, her posterior sank. It was practically absorbed, by the seat's squishy surface. The cushion squeaked, as its surface was pushed inwards.

Kakeru was jealous of the inanimate object; if only his face could be there, instead. Truly, Floris's was a posterior to die for. He wouldn't mind suffocating beneath it. With a quick, silent, mental snap, Kamisato Kakeru was back in reality, his rapidly-expanding manhood shrinking back into flaccidness, doing as its owner commanded.

Rather than sitting across from her, Kakeru prepared himself, mentally, following his manhood's retreat, and, just as Floris had finished fidgeting around, getting herself comfortably seated, with a contented sigh, Kakeru climbed in, after her.

Floris's eyes widened, at the sight of him, taking it upon himself to sit next to her. She didn't mind; she really didn't. He smelled good. Did he use cologne? He smelled like he used some sort of cologne. The scent was natural; Floris compared the scent to that of the air, on a cool, breezy fall day.

"K-Kamisato-san?"

Within a moment, Kakeru's right arm was around the young woman's shoulder. It was so absolutely warm, and so firm; it felt so absolutely powerful. Floris loved the sensation. As a result, her cheeks began to glow a bright shade of pink, while she fidgeted, awkwardly. Floris looked to her left, and then to her right, eyes shifting either way inside of her head. She swallowed hard, as she crossed her arms, and placed them on the table's surface.

Kakeru kept his body's distance from Floris's own, despite his arm being around her shoulder. "You're not uncomfortable, are you? I thought I'd try to get a bit closer. Like you said, this is a date. If you're not enjoying yourself, please, don't hesitate to let me know, and I'll relent. No trouble at all. Just say the word, Floris-san."

"No," Floris quickly spat, giggling, awkwardly, as Kakeru watched on. "I'm n-not uncomfortable. I l-like this a l-lot. This is what I've always wanted, from you. I-it's just kind of hard to believe that it's h-happening. Am I dreaming? Maybe I'm dreaming. Should I just pinch myself? Maybe I d-don't want to wake up, just yet, after all…"

"As far as I know, I'm awake," Kakeru stated, calmly. Floris's eyes locked with Kakeru's own; he didn't seem to be making fun of her. There weren't any hints of sarcasm, that Floris could detect, in the young man's voice. His facial expression was one of neutrality. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, in that regard. I'm fairly certain this is real. Now; let's talk business."

"Business?" Floris inquired.

The moment was interrupted, the young people involved jarred violently from their trance. Next to the bar, there came a shout of frustration; the duo turned their respective attentions to the source of the sound. There'd been something, a machine, in fact, that the duo had missed, on their way towards the booth they'd sat themselves in.

A few feet away from the bar, and the young, dishwashing man, was a larger fellow. Seated on a stool, identical to those that were situated in front of the bar, he yanked, up and down, on a long handle, of some sort.

Tipped with a small, red orb, the handle alone allowed Kakeru to realize what was happening; he immediately recognized the machine, that the chubby man was fiddling with. It was a one-armed bandit. The chubby man was losing in his tug of war with the machine, evidently, judging by the man's loud, frustrated grunts, which followed a second shout, just as full of frustration as the previous.

"I don't really mean business," Kakeru remarked, with a chuckle. "I mean talking. Let's just talk. Tell me about yourself, Floris-san.

"From what I've gathered, through our woefully short, previous conversations, you were part of a group known as "New Light"? Maybe, you could tell me more about that; or, you don't have to. Color me curious. I've heard New Light was involved with a lot of the turmoil in Britain, through the grapevine. Not judging you personally; I'm sure you did what you had to do, at the time. Two thousand and four was quite the time to be alive."

Floris had been put on the spot. As her mind quickly began to run through its options, an usual shiver ran down her spine, causing her body to shake, slightly. Her arms vibrated against the smooth, light-colored table's surface; she could both hear, and feel the bones beneath her skin clattering against the wooden surface, repeatedly, over and over again.

Rather than letting this be a source of discomfort, however, Floris's lips curled into a small, sly grin. She'd take control of the situation, and make herself the master of her own fate.

"Kamisato-san, can I cuddle closer? I'm chilly. Should've worn a coat, or something. The temperature really, really dropped."

The young woman's grin only widened, and the color in her cheeks only grew deeper, as Kakeru pulled her close. Silently crying victory once again, Floris removed her arms from the table, and, in a daring move, wrapped them around Kamisato Kakeru's waist. The feeling was beyond words; Floris's internal, higher mind scrambled for a descriptor; it could find none. There weren't words that could describe the feeling of having her arms around this man's waist. Perhaps, it was simply beyond words; perhaps Floris didn't need words at all.

For a moment, the young woman broke. For a split second, some sense of rationality – she saw her current actions as being irrational, and, a bit ditzy – was pumped into her higher mind, by her desperate, flailing subconscious, which felt she was moving far too fast for her own good. Floris didn't want to squander this.

"I-I hope I'm not m-moving too fast. Am I m-moving too fast? Do you know how l-long I've wanted to d-do this? I-it sounds pathetic, b-but, I dreamed about c-cuddling with you, once. You were just as w-warm then, in my d-dream, as you are, n-now, in real l-life. You're really warm. This time, w-we're alone, t-though."

"You're fine," Kakeru stated, gently. "This is what people do, Floris-san. This is normal. Not everything has to be so monotonous, with a visible pattern. Not every person who holds feelings for another person has to go through "the stages" we're often shown in popular culture. It's not necessary. Let yourself relax, breath; you're fine. You're perfectly safe. Very little you could say or do would offend me.

"We've known one another long enough, and, you've certainly come a long way, in a short period of time. It's been obvious to see that you've struggled with your own feelings. It's time to stop. Let's talk about how you feel. I don't want to see you struggle, anymore, Floris-san.

"I don't know what it is, about you, all of a sudden, Floris-san. When you became visibly frustrated, at my frivolous use of my power, my "World Rejector", I felt quite bad, in fact; something I don't normally feel, when targeting those who would oppose, or otherwise harm me.

"I'll be honest, with you. I'll hold nothing back; when we first met, through the Supreme Superintendent, a very… attractive woman herself, I thought you to be eye candy. Something I could periodically gaze upon, to sate my own desires. Seeing you become frustrated, with me, personally… it made you seem much more like a person I could connect with, and befriend. That sounds awful, doesn't it? It was difficult to connect, before. I suppose my perception was warped. You really are beautiful, Floris-san."

At his compliment, Floris began to tear up. Her eyebrows arched, and, with a push of inner determination, she willed the sogginess in her eyes away. "A lot of guys think like that," Floris explained, softly. "It doesn't make you a b-bad person. It just means you're a guy. It's okay. Y-you know, the human body... becomes attracted to another person before the m-mind does."

Floris had grown to become quite comfortable, quite quickly. Rubbing the side of her face against Kakeru's upper chest, she sighed, repeatedly, in pleasure.

"You're really warm. I've wanted this for s-sooooooo long. When I first looked at you, I thought you were so… so, so, handsome. I still do. I-I've never f-felt like this before. N-no other boy, or man, has e-ever encapsulated me, l-like this. I like the feeling, the funny little tingles, but, I feel really… v-vulnerable, too. I-I'm not used to that, either. I'm not used to vulnerability. It's the one thing I d-don't like about this. It's why I've never tried anything like this b-before."

Kakeru instinctually tightened his arm's grip around Floris's shoulder. "Though I don't know whether or not it will actually do any good, you don't need to worry. I won't hurt you. I'd have no reason to. What would I gain, from hurting you? If I'd wanted to hurt you, I could've taken advantage of you a long time ago. That's not what I do. I don't hurt women, unless they're trying to hurt me; such is self-defense, and not an issue of gender. I especially don't hurt the women who…"

The young man started. He'd only just caught himself; he, too, seemed to be becoming a bit too comfortable, with Floris cuddled up to him, rubbing herself all over him. How would she react to that revelation, in particular? Would she just up, and leave, completely confused, flustered, or both? Such a thing would be regrettable, indeed.

Floris looked up at the young man she'd cuddled herself up to. Without letting go of him, she locked eyes with him. "Who what, Kamisato-san?"

The Bearer of the World Rejector felt an unusual pang, within the right side of his chest, and, lower, downwards, near his gut. Looking into Floris's big, blue eyes, Kakeru swallowed, hard. What was with her? What was with him? He hadn't felt this way for someone outside of his "social circle" in a long time.

Suddenly, as if Pandora's proverbial box had been opened, its contents poured all over him; he felt like some connection between him, and this young woman, who quite obviously had feelings for him, had been forged. Were there feelings for her, in return, within him? Kakeru didn't quite know.

"I suppose I did say that I was going to be honest with you, nothing held back; and so, I will. Floris-san, I must admit that I am the centerpiece of a small harem."

Floris's eyes widened; if it was physically possible, her eyelids would've been torn completely from her face. Floris didn't let go, but, she nearly instantaneously slowed her face's rubbing, against Kakeru's chest, before it ceased to be, completely. Floris's lips parted, as she muttered a confused-sounding "Ooohhh…"

There were a number of decisions Floris could've made, a number of paths she could've taken, each with its own outcome. She could've lost control, and immediately demanded to know why Kamisato Kakeru had involved himself in such an odd, and quite taboo practice. She could break down, and let herself loose a few tears, just enough to allow her to regain her composure. Finally, Floris could look at the situation rationally, with an understanding, open mind. She could try to be a decent human being.

"S-so, I guess that explains all the girls I see you with, sometimes," Floris remarked, after a short period of silence. "I guess there's n-nothing wrong with it, as long as everyone involved is consenting."

"How am I going to make this happen, now?! Am I going to join a harem?! No, no, no. There's some other way! There has to be… but if there isn't? What then? Maybe we could just be friends. Ugh, no! Might as well just drag a dead dog around, then! There's… I'll figure something out."

"You're free to let go, whenever you wish," Kakeru spoke. "I won't take offense, I promise; as I stated, some minutes, there's very little you could do that would offend me."

Floris, despite herself, shook her head, from side to side, no. She didn't let go. "Not unless you want me to. You have a different lifestyle than some other people, and that's okay. It's not like you're doing anything wrong. Everyone involved is of consenting age, in Academy City, right? Everyone's, you know, human? I really don't know where I'm going w-with this.

"Let's t-try something else, Kamisato-san? I think I have a few questions about this, um… harem. I've never really seen one, before. I mean, I've seen the documentaries, and such, my, uh, "friend", Lessar's kind of obsessed with them. I've never seen one in person; well, I guess I have, because I saw you with your g… g-girlfriends? Is that the right word? What's it like, especially for you? Harems are usually multiple women co-existing with one man, right?"

Kakeru leaned back. He signalled a waiter, by waving in the waiter's direction with his right hand. The gruff-looking, muscular man nodded back. Clad in a white, stain-covered apron, with a dark-colored uniform similar to those worn by Kakeru and Flori. He looked downwards, towards the pile of dirtied, white plates, in his hands, which were dangerously close to being brushed by his long, curly beard. Kakeru smirked, knowingly, and nodded back; their silent communication came to a close, when the gruff, musclebound man took his temporary leave.

"Ask away," Kakeru spoke, upon turning back to Floris. "Harems usually are, predominately, multiple women to a single partner of the opposite sex, though, there have been instances of "inversions", however rare. Multiple men to a singular woman. They're still noteworthy; and quite sloppy, I'd imagine, unless protection is frequently used."

Floris turned away, and stuck out her tongue, shutting her eyes, tightly. "Ugh, that's gross. Bad image in my head. Oh, that's awful. That's disgusting. Not the concept; I've seen some nasty things. I'm not letting you meet Lessar. You can thank me later. She's actually the worst. She's so disgusting, ugh."

"Didn't mean to gross you out, Floris-san. I thought the joke would be topical," Kakeru remarked, with a short, quiet chuckle. "I assume we'll be taking your meal to go."

"You bet," Floris replied, awkwardly rubbing her stomach, with the palms of her hands. "Let's change the subject. How do, you, uh, you know, live? Is there any jealousy, or qualms about who's going to spend time with you? I can imagine that it could get pretty chaotic, at times."

"Nope."

Floris temporarily forgot about the uneasiness, brought on by the mental image of Lessar's "private cavity" being filled to the brim, more than once, with the collective splooge of dozens of men. The worst part had been the ecstatic look on Lessar's face, her eyes rolled back into her head, her mouth wide open, ready to catch gallons of thick, milky seed with her outstretched tongue. Floris's subconscious was more than happy to stuff that image into a dirty corner of her higher mind's memory, to rot with the skeletons, and the cobwebs.

"Nope"? Floris inquired, curiosity in her tone of voice. "There's no… squabbling? No "get away, he's mine"? Nothing like that?"

"Nope. Unless… Sir Marco Jigsworth… escapes from his pen – pet iguana, you see – things are usually pretty calm. Everyone gets along well enough. Sometimes, I think they love each other, more than they love me. Not that it matters; I'm glad, I'm glad that they're happy. That's all I want for them. I love them. There was a time, Floris-san, when I took them for granted, and treated them as I treated you, before this funny little night, of ours. An unfortunate relapse; I intend to try and make up for my wrongs."

"Kamisato-san," Floris remarked, "you didn't even do anything all that bad. Ooh, so you're attracted to my body. Okay? Big whoopee doo. You objectified me, inside your heart… I mean head. Why'd I say heart? Eheheh… forget it. It's not a big deal! Honest. There are worse things you could've done.

"There are people, mostly guys, who do worse things than that, like taking advantage of intoxicated girls at parties. Now, THAT'S something to feel bad about doing. Checking someone out? Not bad. Objectifying someone, a little bit, because it turns you on, or, whatever? As long as you're not being outright chauvinistic, not bad. You can think about whatever you want. As long as fantasies stay fantasies, it's not bad. I can tell you all about fantasies."

Kakeru chuckled, as he leaned forward. Detaching herself from him, Floris did the same. Kakeru rested his arms on the booth's table's surface, his eyes' vision focused on the empty, opposite booth, as Floris had, before him. Around the young man's left arm, Floris's arms found themselves becoming wrapped.

"Still not too quick, Kamisato-san?"

"You're fine, Floris-san. You're fine. Thanks, by the way. Now I can stare at you with no regrets."

The former New Light operative raised an eyebrow, her cheeks glowing bright pink, once again; likely not for the last time. Her reaction brought a hearty, deep chuckle out of Kakeru.

"You know? You're great, Floris-san. I don't even really know you all that well, and yet, I feel like, in this short exchange of ours, I've known you all my life. I feel like you're a close personal friend I can trust, despite the fact that we've only had awkward interactions, in the recent past. There's something strong, about you, Floris-san, something dependable, and understanding. Rational. Were you New Light's leader? Did New Light have a leader, or a caste system, of that sort?"

"Nope," Floris responded, with a giggle; she'd mimicked Kakeru's peculiar way of speaking the word. Deep, but humorous, the cute little effect his mouth, and tongue produced, stressing the "o" in the word was absolutely irresistible, to Floris. "That was Bayloupe, another friend of mine; an actual friend, and not just a weird, creepy, sex-addicted tagalong. You don't want to get on her bad side. I m-mean, y-you could probably t…t-take her on, no problem, Kamisato-san! Eheheh."

Before Kakeru could pose a question, in regards to Floris's explanation, the gruff, bearded man had arrived at their booth, lacking any sort of plates, or other baggage. In his right hand, he gripped a small, almost completely used up pencil. Light brown, in coloration, the utensil's pink-colored eraser was almost nonexistent. The metallic eraser holder was partially rusted over. In his left, the large, gruff man held a pad of paper, as well as two crumpled-looking menus. Like the pencil's metallic eraser holder, the metallic rings of the pad were partially rusted. He tossed the menus onto the booth's table, and grunted.

"Eyes up 'ere, lovebirds. Your date can wait. Need somethin'?"

Floris giggled, quietly; on this night, she'd giggled more than she'd ever giggled in her life. She hadn't been a big giggler. Somehow, something about Kamisato Kakeru brought out a soft, simple part of Floris. She imagined the scene she'd seen, drawn in the pages of so many manga, and brought to life in so many episodes of so many different anime. She couldn't imagine trying to utter the phrase, "W-WE'RE NOT ON A D-DATE!"

"Need something to wet the old whistle," Kakeru remarked. "Got Moose Knight?"

"Canadian stuff, huh?" The gruff-bearded fellow inquired, rhetorically; at the mentioning of the name, the large man seemed to soften up. "Syrup-drinkers are good for something, at least. Make damn good beer. Yeah. We got Moose Knight. In a bottle, or, you want a glass?"

Kakeru shrugged. "A glass, please."

After scribbling something down, on his pad, the large, bearded man looked to Floris, who looked back at him. He certainly was a sight to behold; the man almost seemed to be more beast, than human being. His eyes looked tired; beneath his eyes' lower eyelids, there were large, purple bags.

"Somethin' for you?"

Floris nodded, and offered the large, gruff fellow the warmest smile she could muster. "I think I'd like to try the Skullfreezer, please."

"Called "Skullfreezer" for a reason. Ain't responsible for your headache. Or your busted-up teeth. Trust me. It's hard-hittin' stuff."

Again, the gruff man-beast scribbled something down, onto his pad. "Holler when you find somethin', on the menu. Be glad Russ ain't on kitchen duty. Boy's got a screw loose. More than one."

Turning his back to the duo, the gruff, hulking, bearded man-beast took his leave. Beneath him, the floor of the bar, Winner's, practically shook; Kakeru certainly felt the table bounce, once or twice. Apparently, the gruff man was literally shaking the floor, with his steps. Floris seemed to have noticed something peculiar, as well; she looked about, from left to right, and then, downwards, towards her feet, and the floor beneath them.

"Russ! Quit cleanin', you obsessive fucktart. Need a Moose Knight and another Skullfreezer!" The man-beast exclaimed.

The younger-seeming man, who'd apparently still been cleaning the dished turned his back to his duties. Kakeru stared, intently. There seemed to be some animosity, between the gruff man-beast, and the dishwasher, whose name was apparently "Russ."

"Bite me," Russ snapped, in reply. "What's stopping you? We're not that busy."

The large, bearded man-beast's reply came. Floris's attention had gravitated towards the unfolding scene. The hulking mountain man shoved a chair out of his way, knocking it to the ground, with a thrust of his arm; his left hand had crashed against the piece of furniture, like a speeding car mowing down an unfortunate, inattentive pedestrian.

The floor creaked beneath the man-beast's weight. Floris quickly noted that others, too, were watching the scene unfold. Some had put down their forks, others had raised their drinks, and began to add fuel to the crackling fire of the confrontation. "Nothin's stoppin' me; I'm just not doin' it, when you're here. You can't cook worth shit. So, make yourself useful."

Russ pulled a translucent, plastic glove away from either of his hands. Tossing them onto the counter, next to the sink, he leapt over the bar, his back sliding across its gleaming, wooden surface. Legs extending outwards, the younger-seeming man caught himself, as his form slid from one side of the bar's surface, to the other.

"You've been looking for something all day. You want to pick a fucking fight with me? You'll regret it. Knocked out bigger than you with a busted arm and a bum leg. Try me, and I'll lay you the fuck out."

"Boy, I don't fight. I kill. Watch your mouth."

The younger-seeming man, Russ, rolled his shoulders, quite nonchalantly, for a man who'd just been threatened. His facial expression was stern, his dark-colored eyebrows arched. His lower face, covered in light stubble, was less wrinkled-looking than his upper face, including his nose, the bridge of which had scrunched.

"Oh, please, don't hurt me. I'm terrified. If you're a killer, what're you doing working at a shitty bar, in a shitty amusement park, eh? Why aren't you out killing people? Need a little downtime, Wallace? You're not a killer. I know a killer when I see one; you don't have the look in your eye. You don't have the killer look. You have the "I'm a massive cuck" look."

The younger-seeming man, Russ, closed the distance between himself, and the man-beast. No one within the bar, save the man-beast himself, heard Russ's whispered words.

"Have you ever found yourself in a situation in which you've shot a man? A man with a family? A wife? Children? Probably not. You're not haunted, Wallace. Shoot a motherfucker, right in the center of his head, just one shot, right… here…"

Russ poked the center of the man-beast's forehead with his left hand's outstretched index finger.

"… and then, tell me how glorious it is to be "a killer". It'll feel good, at first. Exhilarating, even, but the remorse will come. When it does, you and a generic sleep aid will become very well-acquainted. Don't give me your fuckin' shit about being "a killer".

The man-beast simply stared back at the younger-seeming man who spoke to him.

"Enough! Both of yas; or you're outta here! Last! Warning!"

The loud, distinctly male vocalization originated from the window, leading into the sterile, industrial room, behind the bar. Neither Kamisato Kakeru, nor Floris were aware of who the speaker was; but they clearly held some level of influence, in Winner's. His deep, almost monstrous voice may have had some role to play, in this fact.

The large, gruff man-beast, apparently named "Wallace", immediately backed down, and walked away, abandoning the scene. He walked past the bar, and, past Russ, who Wallace knocked out of the way with a slam of his shoulder. The younger-seeming man, Russ, spat on the ground, running his dark-colored, nonslip shoe over the wad of saliva, before he leapt back over the bar's wooden surface; had it been "for good measure"? Neither the Bearer of the World Rejector, nor the former New Light operative knew. The two simply looked to one another, and attempted to move on, from the scene of open aggression.

"Well. That was interesting. Never a dull moment," Kakeru remarked, leaning back, against the booth's seat's cushioned backrest. "If you're feeling up to it, Floris-san, we can look through the menu. Might be something worth nibbling on."

Floris looked towards Kakeru, and smiled, warmly. "S-sure, Kamisato-san. I'd love to. Let's talk more. About anything. You're… eheheh… I hope this doesn't make things awkward. You're as interesting as you are h-handsome. You're really handsome. I'm really attracted to you. I really hope I'm not making things awkward. Whenever you need to, just tell me to shut up. I don't want to annoy you."

"Not in the slightest," Kakeru spoke, softly, and reassuringly. "I wouldn't tell you to shut up. Why would I? You have as much of a right to speech as I do. I appreciate the compliment. You, too, are both interesting, and stunning. I'd like to learn more about New Light, for one topic, in particular. I find myself intrigued; you were quite the influential group. Were there only three of you, then? I recall there being a fourth member, though, rumors and facts are often thrown around as equals, in grapevine conversations."

"There was a fourth member of New Light; Lancis. Like Bayloupe, a good friend. Not like Bayloupe, because she didn't, and still doesn't smack Lessar around, unfortunately. More people need to smack Lessar around. Actually, she'd probably like it. I know she likes it when Bayloupe does it. Ugh, she's unbearable."

"I've only heard tales of this "Lessar"; I've never met her for myself. By the sounds of her, perhaps that's a meeting I should postpone for another day," Kakeru mused, aloud.

"You d-don't want to meet Lessar! Ever!" Floris exclaimed, her voice raised, becoming slightly louder than she'd intended. The force behind the vocalization startled the young woman, who sank downwards, embarrassed.

"Y-you d-don't want to meet Lessar. She'd corrupt you, without you even knowing it. She's sick, Kamisato-san. Something wrong, up there. She's so… obsessed, completely obsessed with… sex. It's all she thinks about. Just sex. It's not even normal. It's all she rambles on about, well… pretty much ever. It's gotten to the point that we can't even have a normal conversation. I'll be trying to talk about, I'unno, the weather, or something, and she'll suddenly blurt out something like "Floris, have you ever been fucked in the ass?" It's so uncomfortable, ugh. You're such a breath of fresh air, Kamisato-san."

Kakeru rolled his shoulders, as he adjusted his position, in their booth's seat. Shifting his body, from left to right, he inhaled, before he spoke. "I've read the old articles, Floris-san; nymphomania. Most don't think such a disorder exists. I'm inclined to believe those who've dedicated their lives to studying the subject of the human mind, though, I do believe that there are those who engage in sexually explicit behavior in order to cope with some underlying disorder, not necessarily sex-related in and of itself."

"So you think Lessar's crazy?" Floris inquired. Raising her right hand's index finger to her lower lip, she produced a soft, curious-sounding "hmm". "You could be onto something; or maybe Lessar's just a slut. Strong words, I know, but, what else can I call someone who has terminated more than one unplanned pregnancy?"

Kakeru didn't quite know how to respond, at first; what was there to even say?

"That's… troubling," Kakeru eventually managed to remark, rather reluctantly. "I, for one, never want a child, or children; but, surely, Lessar-san could've engaged in safe sexual conduct, through the use of protection; if such protection had failed to function correctly, there are many infertile couples who would give anything in the world for a child, or children of their own. Adoption is always a viable route. Of course, this opens up a completely different can of worms entirely. Quite the touchy subject."

"It is," Floris spoke in agreement, closing her eyes, and nodding her head a single time to physically acknowledge her support of Kakeru's response.

For a while, the duo sat in comfortable silence. Kakeru eventually wrapped his right arm around Floris's shoulders, once again, and, with her permission, pulled her close; "the cold" had apparently been getting to him, too. Floris rested her hands in her lap, and enjoyed the attention she'd been craving for almost a year. More than once, the young woman pinched the skin of her own hands; she didn't snap awake, or even drift back into any sort of consciousness. She certainly did feel a degree of pain, as a result of her self-pinching.

Somehow, the strange day that began with frustration after frustration, was evolving into an evening to remember, forever. Everything just seemed to be going right.

The duo's respective drinks were delivered, approximately ten minutes after they'd ordered them. Kakeru's self-defense instincts had initially kicked in, when his vision laid upon the hulking, approaching form of Wallace, the bearded man-beast who'd nearly gotten into a brawl with the younger-seeming man named Russ.

"Sorry you had to see that. Russ is a little shithead. No respect for 'is elders, or anybody. Boy's got a bad attitude, and a chip on his shoulder, for some reason. Anyways. Enjoy."

Together, Kamisato Kakeru and Floris both remarked, "thank you". Looking down at her drink, which, like Kakeru's had been served in a tall, pitcher-like glass, was light blue in coloration. Small, nail-sized pellets of ice dotted the drink's surface. Translucent trails of mist-like smoke emerged from the drink's surface, as well.

Floris moved to pick the glass up, by its thick, translucent handle; upon touching the surface of her drink's glass, Floris reeled back, viciously tearing her right arm, and its hand away. Shivering, Floris shook the extremity, and looked to Kakeru, seemingly embarrassed; her cheeks lit up, colored a shade of dull, just barely noticeable pink. She looked down to her lap.

"T-that's really, really cold. Wow. You should touch it, too. I… eheheh. I kind of want to see your reaction."

With a chuckle, Kakeru reached out, towards the glass, his right hand's fingers spread a few inches apart, his thumb sitting comfortably, in a naturally-curved position. Unlike Floris, who'd failed, Kakeru managed to wrap his fingers around the glass's handle; for a few seconds, at least, before he, too, pulled his arm away, and wiggled his fingers about, cursing under his breath.

"That is cold," Kakeru relented. "Way too cold. Any pyrokinesists on the premises? I'll need to warm myself up, now."

Prying the cap away from his bottle of Moose Knight, he set the metallic thing aside, and pressed the lid of the bottle to his lips; Floris wanted her own lips to be there, instead. If they were on a date, couldn't they kiss, again? There wasn't anything wrong with kissing, when you were on a date with someone. Testing the waters couldn't hurt.

Kakeru set the bottle, containing the warm, vaguely honey-scented alcoholic beverage down, on the booth's table; this didn't last. As if compelled, Kakeru raised the bottle back to his lips, and took another swig. The aggressive-looking, anthropomorphic moose, wielding an oddly dull-looking medieval broadsword, a silver kite shield, and clad in a suit of silver-colored armor almost seemed to have physically shaken, upon impact.

The caricature's head was large, its antlers even larger; part of the antlers hung downwards, lazily, towards the moose's brow line. The mascot's nostrils which were drawn on as two completely black specks, atop the mascot's round, balloon-shaped nose. The mascot's aggressive eyes stared Floris down, as if to challenge her. From the moose's nostrils, puffs of smoke billowed outwards.

Standing amidst some great battle, flanked by ramparts of cobble, light grey in coloration, on either side, prone silhouettes could be seen, around the aggressive-looking mascot, tossed about the scene's ground like ragdolls. The sky above the mascot was dark, and, in the distance, great, grey thunderclouds loomed, which were partially responsible for the darkened sky.

Atop the scene, depicted on the glass bottle's surface, a large flag was visible; the flag consisted of two squares, bright red in coloration, with a white square between them. In the center of the white square, the image of a leaf was present; bright red, in coloration, like the squares that sat on either side of the white square, the leaf was pronounced, by the plain, empty whiteness behind it.

Beneath the scene, strategically placed beneath the cracked, charred earth the mascot's large, brown hooves stood upon, was the text, made up of English characters, "MOOSE KNIGHT LAGER". Crimson-colored, the text was designed to look like it was perpetually dripping, downwards, like a message scrawled in blood.

"Thirty," Kakeru finally remarked, after chugging nearly half the contents of the glass bottle. "Very, very thirsty, I mean. Thirsty, not thirty. Probably should've just ordered ice water. Lightweight, you see."

"Then there are two lightweights, sitting at this booth," Floris responded, with a short, but warm giggle. "I don't know how I'm going to finish this whole glass. It's… bigger, than I expected." Emphasising her point, Floris parted her hands; placing her left at the glass's bottom, she raised her right to the glass's top, and tilted her head to the side; there was easily fifteen inches worth of alcohol within the glass.

For a short time, Kamisato Kakeru seemed to quietly ponder something. Patiently, Floris awaited his response; he didn't necessarily have to give one, but, nonetheless, the young woman looked forward to it.

"I'll drink slowly," Kakeru finally spoke. "I'll just have this one to drink. If you're intoxicated, I can drive you home, if you'd like."

Without another word between them, Floris scooted herself as close as she could to Kakeru, and, moving in, wearing a determined facial expression, locked her lips with Kakeru's own. Enough had been just about enough. Floris had been pushed to the end of her rope; handsome, intelligent, and kind-hearted? This was no man; this was a god among men. The palms of her hands reached upwards, towards Kakeru's face, and, slowly, Floris's eyes closed. Panting, slightly, Floris's tongue broke through Kakeru's lips, and began to slap against his own tongue.

Kamisato Kakeru couldn't say he minded the affection; it was sudden, that was for certain, but, it made enough sense to him. She'd been holding a lot in, for a fair amount of time. In the heat of the moment, Kakeru took quite the risk. His hands began to slip downwards, towards Floris's hips. He opened his eyes, slightly, just barely splitting his eyelids apart, in order to get a decent look at her facial expression.

Floris's cheeks, unsurprisingly, were bright pink in coloration, as was her nose. She didn't seem to be trying to stop him, however; with their lips smacking together, quietly enough to avoid drawing attention to themselves, his hands fell all the way, landing on either of the young woman's hips.

Floris was on the verge of passing out. If, at all, during this evening's adventure, she'd felt vulnerable, she was at her most vulnerable in the moment she found herself in. He, Kamisato Kakeru, was touching her. Not accidentally running his fingers over hers, or bumping shoulders with her in a cramped hallway; he was touching her body, sensually, with actual intent.

The sensation was foreign to Floris, but it felt pleasant; that much was certain. Kakeru clearly knew how to handle a woman's body. That must've been the result of some level of experience, built up by his harem in action. Was he technically "cheating" in this regard? Floris didn't know. She could hardly hear herself think. His hands' respective grips were soft, but just forceful enough to drive Floris's higher mind to the edges of her own sanity, and her own restraint.

Floris pulled herself away, suddenly; though pleasant, the sensation was a strange, and unfamiliar one. Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest, so quickly was it slamming into her, again, and again. Panting, slightly, Floris smiled, in Kakeru's direction.

"I…I-I really hope this doesn't make things weird, between us. I'm sorry, if I'm coming on too strong. It's p-pretty hard for me to hold back. I don't know what it is with you, but, you make me want you so badly! Uh, if I'm making you uncomfortable, just tell me back to back off, Kamisato-san. I won't be offended. Maybe I should've tried to restrain myself, a bit more. I'm sorry."

Kakeru shook his head, no, and raised his glass to his lips. Taking another short, small sip of his alcoholic beverage, he placed the bottle back down, and produced a soft sigh. "It's fine. There's very little need to hold back; all you're doing, after all, is putting your lips against my own.

"You know, we're the only species that engages in such behavior. Is there anything you're concerned about? You seem perturbed, Floris-san. Is it the possibility of disease, perhaps? A very real concern. Though, admittedly, my word alone might not be enough to cull your worries, I'm quite certain that I don't have any, nor do my partners. Do you think I'm being unfaithful? Is that it, Floris-san? No. Faithfulness in a polygamous relationship works a bit differently, when compared to how it does in a monogamous one. The matter of faithfulness is a bit more complicated."

"Have you been reading my mind, Kamisato-san?" Floris inquired, quietly, as she inched herself away from him, slightly. "Don't want to get in your personal space. I think I've already done that enough times. I guess I just don't know how to really handle myself. I've held all of this back for so long, Kamisato-san, I think, now that I have the chance, it's all coming out, and I can't seem to stop it."

Kakeru's attention was focused on the young woman who'd, somehow, through a series of peculiar circumstances, become his evening's date; he wasn't even dressed properly, not that his unexpected date seemed to care.

She wasn't dressed up. Her hair, though soft-looking, feathery, and beautiful, hadn't been styled for hours on end. She wore no dress; her work uniform was enough to cling tightly to her curvy form, and accent her stunning body. Whether or not she was aware of this fact was a matter unknown to Kakeru.

Floris paused, for a few moments, before she turned her own attention to the window, adjacent to their booth's seats, and rested the side of her face against the palm of her hand, which she propped up with her elbow. Pushed against the surface of the booth's table, Floris felt her elbow, the bone beneath the skin that was stretched over it, grinding against the smooth, but hard wood. It hurt, a bit, but not enough to drive her to move the extremity. The sensation was more of a dull, nagging pain, than anything unbearable.

"I'm really enjoying myself, this evening, more than I've enjoyed myself… ever, really. I've never had much of a "life". I've done things, with New Light, and such, I go, you know, clubbing – just dancing, nothing, uh, you know. Nasty, when the chance presents itself, and, I've worked with a lot with Necessarius, recently… well, you know that much. It's how we met, after all; but I've never really involved myself with anyone, in t-this way. I don't know what to do, okay? I don't know anything about this. I'm desperate, and I'm leaking desire all over the place – proverbially! Not literally!"

Kakeru clasped his hands, and rested them, against the table's surface. He, took, turned his head to the direction of the window, adjacent to their booth.

"Look at me, Kamisato-san; I'm a mess. I guess I'll just say it. I want to spend more time with you, and, before you told me you were in a multi-partner relationship, I really, really wanted to… s-see you again sometime. L-like this. On a d-date. I wanted to go out with you. Eheh. Isn't there supposed to be a sakura tree, or something, here? I read too much manga… sorry. Bad joke. I guess I still do want to g-go out with you; but I don't want to t-take you away from your partners, or cause any kind of chaos. I'm really conflicted, Kamisato-san, and now I feel like I'm dumping all of this on you. I'm sure this isn't what you intended, and, honestly, it's not what I intended, either."

Kakeru took another swig of his drink. Raising it to his lips, he banished the feeling of dryness in his mouth, as cool, thick liquid splashed against his hard palette, and then swam across his soft palette, before it fled down his throat. Kakeru set the glass bottle back onto the booth's table's surface, and tilted his neck, from side to side, causing it to produce soft cracking noises.

"My lovers are aware that I'm sexually active, with others," Kakeru spoke, nonchalantly, causing Floris to raise an eyebrow. "The use of protection is imperative, when engaging "outsiders" – their word, not mine – in sexually explicit conduct. Flesh doesn't meet flesh. Protection is a barrier between myself, and "outsiders", both literally, and figuratively. My bare flesh, and my seed, is for those I call my lovers, and for them alone."

Floris's reflection, visible in the window, due to the dull, but noticeably effective synthetic light provided by Winner's ceiling nodded its head. "That makes enough sense. I'm not going to sit here and judge your lifestyle. Why would I? Would I even have the right to do that? No, not really. Like I said, as long as everyone involved is of legal age, and, everyone's consenting, and are well aware of the specifications of the relationship, it's no one's business but your lovers', and yours.

"Maybe this is good. Maybe this will slow me the Hell down. I feel like I'm moving too quickly, Kamisato-san, even if I think I want to. This is the strangest thing I've ever felt; I both want to, and don't want to jump your bones. Again, don't want to make this awkward… that's just how I feel. I won't dance around it. I think you're being honest, with me, so, I'll be honest with you, too. Honesty is good. That much I'm sure of."

"Immediately engaging in sexual conduct, simply because your body feels like it wants to, or worse, needs to, would, indeed, be moving a bit too quickly. You have the right idea, Floris-san. Listen to that little voice in the back of your head. It rarely steers you wrong," Kakeru stated, firmly.

It wasn't an easy statement to vocalize. Essentially, he was taking his chances of immediately burying his manhood within Floris's wonderful posterior and throwing them out of a proverbial window; but it was the right statement to vocalize. There was a sudden twang of regret, that warped into existence, close to the young man's crotch. It was almost as if his manhood was crying out in sadness, at the prospect of being denied what it sought.

Kakeru, after taking another sip from his drink, produced a soft sigh, as he leaned forward. Bouncing one leg up and down, repeatedly, against the floor beneath the booth's table, he spoke. "Tell me what you think about this. If this is really how you feel, if you're certain these feelings are something you wish to pursue, we could have other evenings out, together, so that you might have the chance to explore your feelings, and come to a sound conclusion. It will also give us the chance to learn more about one another."

Floris turned her head towards her own drink, as she settled herself in her seat; she almost instantly negated the work put into that short, but amusing ritual. Standing up, she pressed her lips to the rim of her drink's glass. Kakeru raised his left hand, and gave his unexpected date a thumb up. Floris, in response, gave a nod, and took a long sip of the drink she'd ordered.

It was cold; freezing, even. Floris's eyelids widened, as her pupils shrank, in contrast. Aside from the mouth-chilling coldness of the beverage, the alcoholic beverage tasted wonderful. It cuddled each of Floris's taste buds, caressing them, and pleasuring them. The overwhelming taste of the beverage was that of blueberry; natural, not any sort of overtly artificial flavoring.

Kakeru couldn't resist; a chuckle burst forth, from his lips, which he'd been desperately trying to keep shut. The look on Floris's face, as she consumed her alcoholic beverage was to die for. Her cheeks had become concave; with either of her palms against her face, Floris's fingers were gripping the back of her neck.

"You bastard," Floris mumbled, "stop l-laughing. It's cold!" Sitting herself back down in she and Kakeru's seat, Floris removed the palms of her hands from her cheeks, and wrapped her arms beneath her bosom. As Kakeru continued to chuckle, Floris found herself joining him. She giggled, quietly, once, before she giggled a second time, a bit more loudly.

"T-to answer your question… I'd love that. Like I said, I'm having so much fun, this evening. I'd love to do this again. There are some things I'd like to talk about, in greater detail, like that… "World Rejector" of yours, but… I guess that can wait. I still feel terrible, about that girl, and, about that strange painted man. Are you sure they're not deceased? If they're not, like you've said, you're certain that they're not in any pain? Please, Kamisato-san, don't just tell me what you think I want to hear."

"Positive," Kakeru spoke, reassuringly. "Though a truly regrettable accident, the young woman, and, for that matter, Vurthum's frontman as well, likely don't even know that anything around them had changed. You ought to be envying them, even.

"The sense of euphoria, and universal understanding that are associated with being 'banished' to another, much more Ideal World are unrivalled, even by the most potent of chemical drugs. They are in no pain, nor were they in the moment that they were 'banished'. 'Banished' is even too strong of a word. 'Moved' would be a better descriptor. Of course, the young woman's friends, and family, as well as Vurthum's frontman's friends and family… regrettably, nothing can be done to remedy any grief they'll suffer. It seems I have much to think about."

Kakeru frowned, slightly. Taking in oxygen, via a deep inhalation, the act was followed by a long exhalation of carbon dioxide. Floris rose up, once again, and brought her mouth down to the rim of her drink's glass. She managed to consume more of the alcoholic beverage, before her body was seemingly forced away; Floris waved her hands, repeatedly, at her sides, as she shook her head from side to side, teeth clattering.

"S-soooo cold, w-w-woooow. T-thank you, Kamisato-san. It's s-still a troubling concept, b-but, at least, they aren't in any pain. I b-believe you. Y-you've never really g-given me a… c-cold… wow. You've never really given me a reason not to trust you, Kamisato-san. I really don't know what I can say about the families, and friends, of those who were 'moved'. Is there anything to say? The whole thing sucks. The first instance was an accident, but, it still sucks. The second instance? I don't know what to make of that. I really wish it didn't happen."

Kakeru rewarded Floris with a small, forced smile, that made her heart skip a beat, and then continue on its path, beating at a quickened pace.

"Let's think about grabbing something to eat."

Turning his attention to the crumpled menu that sat before him, next to his bottle of Moose Knight, Kakeru moved to flip the first page open. Kakeru placed his right hand's fingers against the first page, and his left hand's fingers against the second page. With some struggle, Kakeru managed to pry the two pages apart; Floris ducked, with swiftness that both surprised and impressed a relieved Kakeru, only just avoiding his right elbow, which accidentally arced outwards, in her direction.

"What… what is THAT?"

Floris quickly whipped her head to one side, and tilted it to the side, raising an eyebrow in concern. "Kamisato-sa… oh, good God."

On the menu's first page, covering at least half of a picture of a rather plump, seemingly topping-less hamburger, was a smeared wad of some unknown, semisolid substance. Dark brown, in coloration, the wad was surrounded by tiny, presumably deceased winged insects, no larger than an inch or two in size. Their bodies were mostly black, their wings seemingly of the same color.

"Is that…?"

"It's shit, Kamisato-san. It's got to be shit. Or a nasty booger. Either way…"

Floris shook her head, as she pushed her own menu away from her, with the tip of her finger, her lips curling into a disgusted cringe, as she did so. "L-let's just finish our drinks and go."

Kakeru looked from his left, and then, to his right, somewhat nervously. "Y-yeah. Sounds good, Floris-san. Sounds great. No complaints here."

October 9th, 2014. 8:32 PM.

Touma checked the fly of his own legwear; it was zipped into place. He swiftly checked either cup of his wife's bra; both were placed carefully over either of her breasts. The married couple's explicit ride had come to an end, and Kamijou Touma, with the slumbering form of his wife, Kamijou Misaki, in his arms, stepped out from the interior of their lift car, once it came to a halt, and back out, onto the solid ground of the small, wooden, cottage-like structure.

Carefully manoeuvring, so that Misaki's head wouldn't be accidentally hit against the side of the entranceway of the lift car, Touma tried to keep his head down, as young people, mostly young women, who'd crowded into the cottage-like structure were visibly swooning, and whispering amongst themselves.

Misaki's right arm was wrapped around his husband's shoulders, her left arm dangling, occasionally swinging back and forth, from side to side, as Touma walked. On Misaki's face, her lips had curled upwards, into a warm, contented grin. Her cheeks were perpetually glowing pink.

Kamijou Touma set himself down, sitting his posterior upon one of the nearby benches. He laid his wife out on his lap, supporting her neck, and the back of her head with his right arm. Gently, Touma tapped the left side of Misaki's face with his left hand's index, and middle fingers.

"Misaki, beautiful, hustle! Time to get up, soldier!" Touma whispered, trying to restrain a chuckle, into his beloved's ear.

When this failed, Touma attempted more than once to wake his slumbering lover by whispering into her ears, increasing the volume of each whisper progressively. Finally, following continued failed attempts at waking Misaki, Touma switched his technique up, and moved in, lowering his face towards his wife's. He nearly kissed her on the lips, before he reeled back, and resisted the urge. That could wait, until he and his beloved had washed their respective mouths out. Touma instead placed his left hand's index fingers to her lips, instead. Once, then, twice, then, a third time.

A series of "kisses" seemed to get the job done. Kamijou Misaki's eyelids fluttered open, revealing her golden, starry pupils. For the briefest of moments, Touma thought he saw confusion, in her eyes.

He hadn't been wrong; upon seeing the warm, welcoming facial expression of her husband, however, the confusion subsided, within her, the shadowy tendrils of slumber being shrugged off with it. Misaki rose up, and, looking into her husband's eyes, she smiled, warmly, as she gently moved herself away from Touma, slightly.

"I fell asleep?! Oh, Touma, I am sorry. How long was I asleep for? I hope you were not bored, or lonely. You could have woken me up at any time."

"Like, ten minutes, maximum," Touma remarked, reassuringly. "We're still chummy. I almost dozed off, too, but, got woken up. Surprised you didn't, either. Some drone bumped into our car. Pretty small, a white thing, looked like one of the drones the City uses. People, I swear."

"A drone?" Misaki inquired. Closing her hands into fists, she rubbed them against her eyes, as she produced a soft, quiet yawn. "What would a drone be doing so close to our lift car? It must have been fairly close, in order to physically bump into the car's exterior."

Touma shrugged, and tilted his head one side, as if to physically accent his lack of knowledge on the matter. "Your guess is as good as mine, beautiful. Could've just been a glitch? Unless they're controlled by actual people, and not some sort of AI. If so, I can't say I know. Maybe someone fell asleep at the controls? I can see it happening."

Before the married couple could continue pondering, another lift car arrived; the lift car the Kamijous had rode in was long gone, having been taken over by a group of rowdy youths, who'd piled inside, unaware of the sexually explicit activities which the previous occupants had engaged in.

Out from the lift car walked a tired-looking Accelerator, and an amused-looking Othinus, who sat atop his shoulder, her left leg crossed elegantly over her right.

"You know, "number one", theoretically speaking…"

"If I hear the word "theoretically" one more fucking time, I'm going to kill someone," Accelerator announced. "She's told me shit that's making my goddamn head spin. How do you put up with this? Take the one-eyed brat, for fuck's sake. Isn't she your fucking responsibility?"

Touma failed to restrain the chuckle that'd escaped his lips; though Accelerator had initially shot quite the nasty glare in Touma's direction, it'd faded into an almost goofy look of resignation quickly enough. "She does that, Accel. Othi-chan likes explaining things. I've learned more from Othi-chan than I ever learned in school. You ought to pay attention; she has a lot of good stories to tell, and lessons to impart. Anyway, glad to see you two getting along so well. I think Othi-chan might've found boyfriend material. Could you see it, beautiful?

"Accel and Othi-chan, sitting in a tree. G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a little Othi-chan/Accel hybrid in a baby carriage!"

Misaki placed the palm of her right hand over her mouth, and closed her eyes, tightly, as she began to giggle.

Accelerator closed the distance between himself, and the married couple. Sitting his posterior upon the bench's seat, a few inches between himself, and the Kamijous, he closed his eyes. "I'll put you in a fucking tree, hero; with a rope around your neck."

"Tsundere," Misaki teased. "Perhaps we will have to take you to Hawaii. Your true feelings might just be revealed, there."

The "top dog" of Academy City, and the tiny, former Magic God looked to one another, confused.

"Hawaii?" The duo asked, in unison. Both of their respective higher minds turned to the past. Neither was particularly fond of the memories that were dredged up.

Shaking his head, from left to right, Touma chuckled, quietly. "You should know this one, guys, come on. Do you really not remember? It was where we and Misaka got everything out in the open, and put everything into perspective."

Accelerator clicked his tongue, in response. Leaning forward, he rested his chin against the knuckles of his left hand, which had curled into a fist. "Oh. The third ranked and the fifth ranked? Guess I did. Dunno about the one-eyed brat. Lucky for them. I would've tossed the both of you into the fucking atmosphere if you would've kept that goddamn bickering up."

Othinus didn't verbally respond. Instead, she forced a smile, and looked down to her tiny, bare feet. Somehow, even after a decade, her past actions still haunted her, hanging over her little head like a storm cloud.

Accelerator craned his neck in the tiny, former Magic God's direction, and flashed her a predatory grin. "You're pretty quiet all of a sudden, one-eyed brat. Cat got your tongue?"

Her smile, synthetic, and forced, at first, was slowly becoming more genuine. Othinus produced a soft giggle, and closed her eyes.

"Don't you dare bring that up."

For some few moments, the quartet sat, on the bench, as silence descended over the group. Misaki eventually managed to lift herself away from her husband's warm, comfortable lap, and set herself down next to him. She'd taken his left hand into her own right; as always, their fingers had become interlocked.

Othinus looked away from adoring onlookers of all ages; Accelerator succeeded in ensuring that said onlookers kept their distance, simply by existing.

It was the tiny, former Magic God who broke the comfortable, if monotonous silence that'd descended among the group.

"So? Is that it? Are we done, or, are we actually going to make to "the Butchery"?

Touma didn't verbally answer; at least, his vocal cords didn't provide the answer. His stomach did. It growled, loudly, crying out to be fed. Misaki lowered her head, and snorted, before she began to giggle. Accelerator rolled his eyes, and clicked his tongue, apparently in annoyance, before he gave in, and produced a soft chuckle. Othinus leapt down, into the lap of Academy City's "top dog", where she sat herself down, quite elegantly, upon her knees. She clasped her little hands, and placed them in her lap.

"It's not too late, so, we could get up to more trouble," Touma remarked. "Depends on how everyone's feeling. We should probably check up on the girls, before we do anything else. Wonder what kind of trouble they're getting up to?"

"I am certain they are behaving themselves, husband," Misaki stated. Crossing her right leg, over her left, she leaned back, stretching her bones. Her right foot bounced, repeatedly, as she shook her head, from side to side. "I would not mind speaking to them, however. I miss our little nun."

"If the other brat's home," Accelerator began, "who fucking knows. If not, probably nothing too bad. The brat knows better. The other one? She does, too. She just likes fucking with people."

"By "people", you mean, "just me"? Touma inquired, chuckling, as he looked to his lap, purposely avoiding Accelerator's gaze.

Academy City's "top dog" produced a grunt. "Keep it up, goddamn hero. Keep it up."


	17. Tourist Traps

A decision had been made. Accelerator, and the tiny former Magic God patiently waited, as Kamijou Misaki produced her phone, and began dialling Index's number, tapping her fingers over the tempered glass touchscreen of the device. Once the number was dialled, Misaki raised her phone to her left ear, and rubbed her shoulder against her husband's, affectionately.

From within her purse, Index's phone's ringtone played, loud and clear, once Misaki's phone managed to successfully connect the call. It was anything but the fluffy, easily-consumed pop tune that the married couple, as well as Academy City's "top dog" and the former Magic God had expected.

The piece's rhyming lyrics, in English, were rapidly spoken, rather than sung. The rhymed words were layered over a simple, repeating beat, consisting of synthetic sounds resembling the clapping of hands, an instrument no one among the quartet could put a name to, and a steady, constant drum beat, also synthetic-sounding.

Misaki lowered her head, and giggled, at the mention of the forbidden "F word". The rhyming speaker was apparently angry about something, as his deep, identifiably male voice was practically dripping with barely-contained fury. Referring to the female population, apparently of the entire globe, as "bitches", the speaker proceeded to inform the audience, while rhyming, about how, exactly, he was going to forcibly engage in coitus with their respective female partners.

Misaki's facial expression curled into one of disgust. Shaking her head, the young woman muttered to herself; under her breath, she spoke words of disapproval.

"What in the world has Index even been listening to?" Touma inquired, shaking his head. Passersby were looking, some shaking their heads in disapproval, others seemingly unconcerned, only sparing the quartet the briefest of glances. "What kind of music is this? Is this even music? Does this even count as actual music? It's just someone talking."

"It's called Hip Hop, hero," Accelerator pointed out. "You can't tell me you've never listened to Hip Hop before. I won't fucking believe it. I've even listened to this shit. Not by my own volition, but, whatever."

Misaki halted the call, bringing the aggressively-rhymed speaking, and the odd, dark-sounding music beneath to a standstill, and proceeded to dial Last Order's number, instead. Repeating the same actions that she'd performed, previously, Kamijou Misaki again raised her phone to her left ear, and patiently awaited an answer, as her phone attempted to connected the call.

Upon succeeding, a soft, buzz-like ringing was produced, for some moments, before the call was connected. Following a singular, loud click, Misaki could hear what sounded like the same 'music' played previously, but, lacking the spoken, aggressively-rhymed words delivered by the deep-voiced individual, along with Index's own desperately failing attempts at karaoke.

"I-I'm g-gonna f-fuck your BITCH! Swag, swag, swag!"

The nun's voice was unstable, cracking repeatedly, and, she was perpetually giggling, occasionally breaking down into vaguely hyena-like laughter during her attempts at karaoke. Misaki could hear Last Order's giggling, as well, though the clone's giggling was much closer to the device on the other end than Index's was.

"Hi, Second Savior! How's it going? Are you and First Savior enjoying yourselves? How is Accelerator, and the Redeemed One, MISAKA MISAKA inquires, completely aware of, but unconcerned by the knowledge that she is rudely intruding on the business of others!"

Last Order's vocalizations were loud, and awkward, as if they were dribbling from her lips; they were so loud, in fact, that even Accelerator, sitting upon the next bench over from the married couple could hear her, a look of concern on his face. He'd whipped his head in the Mental Out user's direction, his right eye's eyebrow raised.

"You are never intruding, Last Order," Misaki remarked, softly. "You are family, after all. We thought that we would check up on you two, and learn of what you are getting yourselves up to. You sound… intoxicated. Have you two been drinking?"

Misaki giggled, as she looked downwards, to her feet. The young woman blushed, as her husband chuckled, and shook his head. Accelerator, leaning forward, head still tilted to his right, seemed to be less amused.

"My, my; you are both such delinquents. Engaging in the consumption of alcoholic beverages. You sound like you are absolutely plastered, Last Order."

"MISAKA is trashed, MISAKA MISAKA confirms, knowing that she's going to come to regret her juvenile actions in the morning to follow," Last Order remarked, barely able to control the volume of her voice. "MISAKA's dear friend, Index, is also strung out, she's trying to rap along to the lyrics of "I'mma Fuck Your Bitch Swag Out", but she's failing miserably, MISAKA MISAKA explains, secretly mocking her dear friend's vocal performance."

"I'd like to see you do better, bitch! I have a voice that sounds like the chorus of a thousand angels! You want singing? I'll show you singing!" Index exclaimed; on Misaki's end of the line, a loud crash, followed by a series of thumps could be heard. On the opposite end, Index had stumbled over, tripping over the wire of microphone, which was plugged into the headphone jack of Last Order's tablet. Her body had hit the floor, her face facing downwards. She was giggling loudly. Index rolled over, onto her back, as her giggling only increased in volume.

"You sound like you are having fun; but try not to drink too much. It is unhealthy for your liver. We will see you later tonight. Have fun, Last Order, and, you too, Index! Behave yourselves, as best as you can!"

On the other end of the line, Last Order nodded her head sagely, as Index managed to stagger towards Last Order's bed, which she proceeded to fall back onto. The nun's face was as red as the outer layer of a beet.

"MISAKA greatly respects Second Savior's health-related advice! MISAKA is done drinking, for tonight, and MISAKA is fairly sure that her dear friend is done, as well. MISAKA's dear friend can barely stand up straight, MISAKA MISAKA explains, attempting to reassure Second Savior, and therefore First Savior and Accelerator as well. Bye!"

The call was ended; Misaki placed her own phone back into her purse, next to the phone that belonged to Kamijou Index. The young woman looked from her left, towards Accelerator, and Othinus, and then to her right, towards her husband, Kamijou Touma, who tilted his head to one side, and grinned.

"The Butchery" it is, then?" Kamijou Misaki inquired.

"I'm game," Touma responded, clasping his hands, and leaning forward in his seat. He rolled his shoulders, and produced a pleasured groan, as he stretched the muscles within. His spine silently cried out in relief, as he removed his back from the backrest of the bench, which was beginning to cause him to experience soreness.

Accelerator clicked his tongue. Othinus had clambered up, onto his right shoulder, where she'd perched herself. Gripping onto his shirt, with her tiny left hand's fingers, she seemed to be in deep thought. "Whatever. I guess I'm there."

"Othi-chan? How're you feeling? Tired, or, up for some more adventure?" Touma asked, curiously. The tiny, former Magic God seemed to be suddenly snapped out of her musings, as she smiled, looking in the direction of her "jailer".

"I could certainly go for more "adventure", as you put it," Othinus remarked. "I'm slowly becoming more and more curious as to the outward appearance of this "Butchery".

Touma grinned, as he rose from the bench, stretching his arms outwards. Misaki rose with him, still hand in hand, her left arm being raised along with his right. "Then it's decided!"

That action brought a lot of memories rushing back to the mind of Academy City's "top dog". Accelerator couldn't help but think back, his mind travelling backwards in time, as he froze up, in the present. The arm of Kamijou Touma, and the arm of Kamijou Misaki raised, upwards, as if challenging the very sky itself to stand against them; it reminded him of the hectic, chaotic first seconds of the Battle for the Windowless Building, that had followed the conclusion of that same action, five years prior.

Cries had nearly punctured the eardrums of Academy City's "top dog". In the present, Accelerator could still hear them, as if their echoes never truly left his mind. Cries of anger, cries of grief, savage cries of hatred; all had been battle-cries, nonetheless, each of the cries' utterers just, and righteous, in their shared belief; the belief that Aleister Crowley, the faceless 'thing' dwelling within the towering Windowless Building had to die, no matter the cost. The diverse members of the Academy City Liberation Legion had cried out as one.

There was no overcast, with rays of sunlight beaming downwards, between the clouds; it wasn't even daytime, in the present, like it'd been on that day, but it was enough to make Academy City's "top dog" think deeply about the past, and the many prices paid for their freedom.

Sure, the married couple's facial expressions were jovial, in the present, when, on that day, five years ago, their facial expressions had been twisted into scowls of righteous anger, and a deep, boiling hatred, directed towards the towering Windowless Building, and the demon that dwelled within; but the action was almost completely identical. Accelerator found himself shuddering, slightly, an involuntary action which Othinus was more than vaguely aware of.

Accelerator sighed, as he rose, fully, abandoning his seat on the bench. Quickly, a group of youths took his place, laying siege to the bench, and tossing themselves onto it. The bench groaned, and creaked, its frame practically crying out in terror at the extreme stress placed on it.

Exiting the cottage-like structure, the married couple, hand in hand, was followed by Accelerator, and Othinus, who remained perched upon his shoulder. The quartet retraced their steps, moving away from the wooden structure, and the lift cars that continued to travel through the air, suspended on the long, winding trail of tightrope.

Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki could only look up, and see a car they believed had been theirs; each individual car's exterior looked quite similar to the other, and, as such, it was nearly impossible for the married couple to identify the car that had been theirs; they tried anyway, no matter how vain the attempt was.

Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki were smiling quite guiltily at one another; Academy City's "top dog" and the tiny, former Magic God could only guess what the couple was thinking about. Their respective guesses weren't incorrect, technically speaking.

Othinus silently grieved for the unsuspecting individuals who'd entered the same car that her "jailers" had been in. Hopefully, they wouldn't step in anything. Her tiny stomach churned, as she tried to distract herself from the disgusting, internal musings.

After some time, in which the quartet successfully retracted their steps, and found themselves at the ramparts, which acted as walls, sealing the "the Hub's" city in, as if it was an Academy City of its own, within Academy City, they passed between the frontal ramparts, like they were willingly entering the gaping maw of some hungry, salivating thing.

As the quartet passed between the entranceway, situated in the exact middle of either rampart, Kamijou Misaki found herself looking upwards. The ramparts, though nowhere near as tall as the gates at the entrance of "the Grand Kingdom", were tall enough to be intimidating. Their individual bricks looked to have been shined to the point of perfection; obsession, even. In Misaki's mind's eye, she could see some unfortunate worker buffing each brick, with some sort of rapidly-spinning machine, in either of his hands.

Strangely, to the young woman, at least, Misaki began to concern herself about the prospect of the ramparts crashing downwards, bringing great catastrophe to "the Grand Kingdom", and those within. Silently, she began to pick up her pace, as Kamijou Touma adapted, slightly confused, but loyally following behind his wife, nonetheless.

Beyond the ramparts, the sights of "the Hub's" city was even more impressive, somehow. The neon lights, which the married couple had been bathed in, during their experience in the car lift were closer than ever before. Signs, windows, neon light fixtures were even wrapped around the frames of metallic doors, leading into all sorts of different structures, each serving different purposes.

The walkways of "the Hub's" city were lightly colored, a shade of light brown, made up of what must've been millions of bricks, each set next to one another, forming the walkways' rectangular shapes.

There were structures of all sizes, mostly sharing a similar shape. Fairy tale facades lined the streets, little cottages, and little "ye olde"-styled structures, constructed of brown-colored bricks, covered by roofing made up of brightly-colored shingles; hues of orange, yellows, greens, blues, and even purples were visible. Their doors were constructed of wood, or, possibly, a metallic substance which had been painted to resemble wood. Their windows were round, resembling the portholes of a ship, surrounded by wood-styled, circular frames.

There was the occasional oddly placed great, towering skyscraper, each of which rose, high above the other structures of "the Hub's" city; they stood out from the fairy tale theme of "the Hub's" city, looking similar to the architecture that would be found in Academy City proper.

Some were dark, and others were light in coloration, their windows light silver, and apparently tinted, so that nothing of the inside could be seen, from the outside. What purpose these sky-scraping structures could have possibly served was lost, on the quartet, who could only take their respective turns at internally guessing.

Though the fairy tale-esque structures of "the Hub's" city were ornate, their shapes were fairly limited. There were those that were rectangular, in shape, while, in addition, there were also those that were smaller, and square-shaped, instead. On the left of the quartet, and on their right, there were structures, and other pedestrians everywhere. Flooding in, and flooding out of structures, there were far, far too many people.

Accelerator removed the tiny, former Magic God from his shoulder, causing her to squeak in terror, and placed her upon the left shoulder of Kamijou Touma, before he proceeded to flip his choker on, and reflected the hustling, and the loud noises produced by the crowds away from him with his ability, wordlessly complaining, by grunting all the while.

The married couple, with Othinus on Touma's shoulder weaved between groups of individuals of all ages, genders, heights, weights and skin colors. Othinus clung to the shoulder of her "jailer" for dear life, squeaking in fear whenever someone came too close to her, subsequently invading her comfort zone. Misaki silently wished she'd brought her remote along, so that she could've possibly directed some of the crowds away from her and her husband. Quickly, however, Kamijou Misaki shook her head, as if to physically cast the thought of doing such a thing away.

Eventually, after some time had passed, in which the married couple had dodged many an aloof, and inattentive passerby, and many an aloof, inattentive passerby became quite attentive, upon seeing Accelerator walking towards them, with his hands stuffed into his pockets, the quartet came to something of an intersection.

The walkway diverged in four directions; to the north, the walkway continued into an area that seemed to house something of an entertainment venue. In the distance, a great, semicircular bowl could be seen. Baby blue, in coloration, it rose above the other structures, its round top reaching nearly as high as some of the skyscrapers. Kamijou Misaki internally likened the structure's shape to that of a clamshell, which had opened. The "pearl" within was no literal jewel, but, rather, it was a large, metallic stage, which was elevated by a series of crisscrossing, dark-colored metallic bars.

Dark in coloration, what could be seen of the stage was impressive. It looked to be wide, and large, easily able to hold more than once performance at a time, by its appearance. Finer details couldn't quite be made out by the young woman's eyes, even when she squinted.

Some far ways down the western walkway, which was flanked by more rectangular, and square-shaped structures, there was what appeared to be a large stadium, of some type, at the walkway's end, from which crowds flooded in, and flooded out. The outermost wall of the structure was visible. Light silver, in coloration, it looked to be constructed of some type of shining, reflective plastic, rather than any sort of metallic substance.

Beneath the glowing, synthetic light provided by "the Hub's" city's streetlamps, as well as from the lights on the exterior of "the Hub's" city's structures, the outer walls of the stadium-like structure reflected golden, and white-colored amorphous blobs.

Seemingly, it was a modern variant of the ancient Roman Colosseum, complete with adaptations of the original's semicircular 'windows'. The married couple both silently assumed that, on each side of the structure's 'floors', these 'windows' were present. Presumably, there were many circular rows of seats, within the stadium, from where activities of some type would be observed. Touma, for a moment's time, wondered if there was any sort of pseudo-gladiatorial activities that were taking place.

Down the eastern walkway, there was little of note to be seen. It seemed, from the respective perspectives of the quartet's individual members, that the eastern walkway ended in another intersection. The walkway was flanked on either side by more buildings, most of which seemed to be tourist traps, one of which advertised that it contained "the remains of REAL Nephilim giants! Never before seen, UNEXPLAINABLE by SCIENCE!"

"So, where to?" Touma inquired. He, with the tiny, former Magic God, Othinus perched on his shoulder, and Kamijou Misaki quickly made their way off to the side, next to one of "the Hub's" city's many tourist traps, on the threshold of the eastern walkway.

Academy City's "top dog", Accelerator, was considerably less swift, in his movements. Those who crossed him weren't about to bump into him. Rather, instead of going anywhere near him, they avoided him, not like he was a plague victim but, rather, like he was a plague itself. Accelerator seemed, outwardly, to enjoy the attention.

He grinned, maliciously, at passersby, causing "the Hub's" city's crowds to further gravitate away from him. Eventually, he'd meandered his way over to the side of the tourist trap, and leaned himself up against the wall, a few feet away from the married couple, and Othinus. Removing either of his hands from his pockets, Accelerator folded his arms, across his chest.

"North, and west aren't where we want to go," Accelerator stated, firmly. "I don't know what the fuck is east. I didn't see anything. We somehow fuck up, and go the wrong way? Guess we could backtrack, but, I don't know. Too many dumbass twists and turns."

Touma had turned around, with the intention of seeking his wife's council; she'd already seemed to have figured something out that he hadn't, a fact which hardly surprised her husband. Her starry, golden eyes looked up at a large road sign. Mounted atop a long, wooden pole, it was made up of four individuals arrows; one pointed upwards, another downwards, one to the left, and one to the right. Elongated, and dark green in coloration, the arrows were bordered by white trim, which looked to have been worn, and weathered by the elements.

Each of the green-colored arrows were covered in a variety of written languages. White, in coloration, the many different languages mixed quite effectively with one another. They were carved into the signs' surfaces in an ornate, and italicised fashion. English text, simplified Chinese characters, characters originating from multiple Japanese dialects, French and Spanish text, and an odd, vaguely runic-looking written language, which no one among the quartet could discern the meaning, or origin of.

The text written upon the arrow that pointed to the north spoke of of "the Emperor's Bowl", which, apparently, was the name of the large venue in the north of "the Hub's" city. Beneath that text, more text explained that another location, known as "the Den of Debauchery", was located beyond "the Emperor's Bowl", but was intended for "mature (20 YRS PLUS) parkgoers only".

The text written upon the arrow that pointed to the west spoke of "the Staging Grounds of Destiny", which was, more than likely, the name of the modern variant of the Roman Colosseum. Beneath that text, more text spoke of an area known as "the Halls of the Feast", which must've been behind, or perhaps beyond the Roman Colosseum's modern variant.

The text written upon the arrow that pointed to the east spoke of exactly what the quartet was searching for.

"Travellers' Haunt" was apparently the name used to refer to the long stretch of tourist traps. Beneath the text that spoke of "Travellers' Haunt", was text that looked completely different from what was printed above it, and on the other signs.

Rather than being white in coloration, and ornately-styled, the text was colored bright red, and, from the individual characters that made up each word, what appeared to be globs of crimson lifeblood dripped. "The Butchery (mature (20 YRS PLUS) parkgoers only", the text read.

"Nice find, beautiful," Touma complimented. "Didn't even see that myself. Goes to show how much attention I pay to my surroundings, eh? Good thing I've got you here. Don't know what I'd do without you."

Kamijou Misaki blushed, as her husband wrapped his right arm around her shoulder, and pulled her close to him. The warmth his body caused the young woman's lips to curl, upwards, into a smile. She placed either of her arms around her husband's waist, and snuggled close to him. "Thank you, handsome. I do not know what I would do without you, either."

The married couple, and Othinus, followed by Accelerator left the sign behind, moving away from the side of the structure which they'd pressed themselves against, and beginning to walk down the easternmost walkway.

Within their first twenty feet, the quartet was bombarded by advertisements; enormous, flashing billboards, some of which played live, perpetually-moving, apparently infinitely-looping animations, others which displayed static images, and advertisements delivered the "old-fashioned way", by simple signs, which had been set out in front of some tourist traps were among the vehicles used by advertisers. While most were mounted onto the surfaces of structures, some were elevated by metallic poles, rising high into the air, and dousing the darkened night sky in their flashing, or, alternatively, static colors.

One tourist trap, which the quartet passed by, appeared to have been built to resemble a lodge, of some type. It was quite the spacey structure, at least fifteen, or twenty meters in its total length. There were a few meters' worth of space between it, and the other, unrelated tourist traps on either side of it. Its roofing, which was made up of dark-colored shingles was slanted, both of its sides meeting at a central point, which rose some few feet into the air.

Constructed from dark, brown-colored shingles, the roof sat atop the outer walls of the lodge, which were a lighter shade of brown, and constructed of what appeared to be long planks of wood.

A staircase, each of its individual steps quite thin, and covered with small, but noticeable holes, lead up to the entranceway of the lodge-like structure, which was elevated, slightly, on a small hill that could've been natural, but was assumed by the married couple to be manmade.

Othinus didn't put too much thought into the matter, and Accelerator couldn't have cared any less, either way.

Just outside of the lodge-like structure, was the object that had initially caught the quarter's collective attentions. Standing tall, its arms outstretched, was an enormous, lifelike statue depicting the legendary creature sometimes known as "Sasquatch". It stood twelve feet tall, easily, dwarfing the quartet's members, and passersby alike. Kamijou Misaki found herself swallowing, hard, at the sight of the statue. Touma seemed to share his wife's reluctance to go near it.

The creature's fangs were bared; each of its individual teeth were fangs, though, its canines were elongated, even more so than the rest of its teeth. Its dark-colored, partially yellowed gums were visible, its lips rolled downwards, their insides pocked with cuts, scars, and bloodied scabs.

The statue's glass eyes' whites were bloodshot, their pupils dilated. Its nose's bridge was flattened, its nostrils wide, with long, thin hairs protruding from within. The top of its head was almost cone-shaped, while its forehead was large, and vaguely square-shaped. Covered in wrinkles, the statue's dark skin seemed to blend quite well, with the rest of its hair-covered body.

The statue's musclebound legs were spread apart, its five-toed feet pressed, flat, against the metallic plate it was situated open. Its musclebound arms were wide, and, even beneath their hair, bulging veins were visible.

Accelerator, apparently unfazed by the creature, was the first to look downwards, towards the small, square-shaped sign, which was elevated a few feet away from the metallic plate, which the statue stood upon. The sign, milky-colored, and slightly weatherworn, splattered with blots of dark-colored dirt, told a tale, in multiple languages; Accelerator could make out the English text, and the Japanese characters.

"The taxidermized carcass of a TRUE Sasquatch, first discovered in the wilds of Saskatchewan, Canada…" Accelerator mockingly narrated, adopting a poorly-emulated English accent. "Yeah, right. Whatever you guys fucking say."

"To be fair," Touma remarked, nonchalantly, "we've seen weirder things. Maybe it's legitimate? Who knows."

"You can't be serious, hero," Accelerator mumbled. He clicked his tongue, as he bent downwards, and began to examine the statue. With his choker still enabled, Academy City's "top dog" almost wanted the statue to suddenly jerk to life, and try to assault him. He'd laugh, as the ugly thing would be sent flying halfway across Academy City.

Kamijou Misaki posed a question that caused Accelerator to shake his head even more, as he rose, stretching his knees. He flicked his choker off, and turned back to face the wife of Kamijou Touma.

"Might we go inside?"

"For what, fifth ranked?" Accelerator inquired, rhetorically. "This shit is all… well, shit. Fucking hogwash. There's no Sasquatch, no ape-men running around Canada. Just fucking polite people, who need to grow backbones… riding around on Zambonis, and shit."

"Humor the little lady, would you, Accel?" Touma remarked, chuckling, as he embraced his wife, lovingly. "Even if grumpy old Accel won't come in, I will. You want to look around, too, Othi-chan?"

Othinus seemed to be intently focused on the statue. She'd raised her little right hand to her tiny chin, and was perpetually scratching it. Her left eye's eyebrow was raised, slightly, her lips cocked, awkwardly into a vaguely confused-looking half-grin.

"Hm? Oh. Apologies, Touma; I was lost in thought, momentarily," Othinus remarked. "I actually have an interesting story to weave, when we find ourselves in a private location. You're wrong on this instance, "number one". Yes, I wouldn't mind looking around, myself. Don't be a drag, "number one". Come along."

Kamijou Misaki turned to Accelerator, who clicked his tongue at her, his facial expression turning from one of slight aggression to one of open annoyance. Her big, starry eyes seemed to become almost puppy-like, sparkling, and becoming moist. She pouted, slightly, puckering her lips up.

Touma released his wife, turning away, and trying his hardest not to break down into open laughter. Touma's hands went to his mouth, as he began to shake his head.

"Accelerator-san, I would appreciate it very much if you would come with us. Staying out here, all by your lonesome, would break my heart. You might find yourself having a good time, after all."

Internally, Accelerator's icy heart was thawed. As if compelled, Academy City's "top dog" muttered, "whatever." Accelerator relented, producing an annoyed-sounding grunt. "Hero, what's with her? Can she bypass my ability, or some shit? Is your wife a fucking level six that I don't know about? You'd better tell me now, if that's the case."

Touma had managed to compose himself, and sighed, deeply, as he placed his right hand back into the eagerly waiting left hand of his wife. Their fingers interlocked, snaking around each other. "Not a level six, as far as I know, but, she's good, Accel. You can't say no to that face, right? Now you see it, too. Those eyes. They're so big, like a little puppy's."

"I might just be," Kamijou Misaki joked, raising her available hand, and spreading its index, and middle fingers. Placing them above, and below her right eye, respectively, Misaki stuck out her tongue. "Watch yourself, husband; you may just find that you are more inclined to do my bidding."

Touma grinned, as he blushed, ever so slightly. The sight made Misaki's heart skip a beat, and then begin to beat faster, against her chest. The tinge of light pink that'd danced across either of her husband's cheeks was, perhaps, one of the most adorable things she'd ever seen.

"I'd do your bidding any day, beautiful."

"Whipped motherfucker," Accelerator remarked, with a soft chuckle, as he rejoined the quartet. The trio walked through the entranceway of the lodge-like building, with Othinus remaining perched upon her "jailer's" shoulder.

There hadn't been a whole lot of light pouring out, from within the structure; but within, there was hardly anything more to provide any sort of illumination. The light that was present was dull, and dirtied, likely the fault of the bulbs, which were placed sporadically around the ceiling of the structure, which slanted upwards, just as its exterior's roof did.

The quartet's members were quick to piece together what it was that they'd just stepped foot into. It was a museum, of some type; evidently, the museum's motto must've been "less is more". There were no individual rooms; the museum was, apparently, its own large room, with no other rooms within. The only walls within the structure were those that held it in up, aided by numerous tall, vaguely totem pole-like wooden beams, which rose to the ceiling. There were two to either side, each row being spread out some five or six feet away from the other.

Dark-colored, the inner walls, like the exterior walls, looked to be crafted of wooden planks, though, upon closer inspection, Accelerator could see a vaguely metallic reflection, created by the ceilings' light fixtures.

The singular visible floor of the structure was carpeted, dark blue, almost black, at first glance. It looked rough to the touch, and was dirtied, in some places. Streaks of what must've been mud were visible, along the carpeted floor, infrequently, along with small tufts of light-colored hair, which were strewn about in no real pattern, as if they'd fallen from something.

Kamijou Touma, Othinus, and Kamijou Misaki had cast their respective gazes to the service desk, which stood to Touma's right. Pressed against the northernmost wall, the desk's surfaces looked to have been waxed, or, otherwise, were very well cleaned. The desk was clearly constructed out of a metallic substance, of some description, with a series of wooden slabs serving as a "counter" of sorts.

There was no one present behind the desk, though, a desktop computer was present, as well as a large, space-stealing monitor, which looked like it was a relic from decades passed. The small tower, the monitor, as well as the computer's small, compact keyboard, and even smaller mouse were black, and looked to have been recently cleaned, or, alternatively, recently sullied, as their surfaces were wet-looking.

In the center of the desk's surface, a large note had been posted. The paper itself was a shade of light yellow, with cyan text written upon it.

"FREE ENTRY (LEE ALLEN'S CRYPTOZOOLOGY MUSEUM MONITORED BY CLOSED CIRCUIT TELEVISION)! ENJOY, AND TELL A FRIEND TODAY!"

"Sounds good to me," Touma remarked, as the quartet began to walk forwards, into the museum proper. "I pay ZERO!"

Kamijou Misaki didn't verbally respond. She gulped, as she clung to Kamijou Touma's arm, her own arm wrapped around his. She wanted to smile, at her husband's arguably "lame", and admittedly endearing antics, but, she couldn't. The headstrong woman found herself feeling intimidated, by the sight before her.

Hanging, from the ceiling, was a sight that absolutely terrified her. It was something primal, something awful, that brought out some completely unfightable, instinctual fight or flight instinct. Even Accelerator's head had tilted upwards, so that he could get a better look at it. Othinus hadn't responded, either. Like Accelerator, her head had tilted upwards.

It was suspended by what looked like ropes, which were wrapped around its large, skeletal wings. The entire creature was skeletal, in fact. It had no visible arms; instead, its wings seemed to likely have played that role, when it had been alive. Its legs were long, the three toes upon its large feet ending in sharp-looking, hooked talons. Kamijou Misaki could almost imagine some nondescript, generic-looking human being carried to their doom, the skeletal creature's talons sunk deeply into their flesh.

Its skeletal neck was long, its skull, with empty, dark eye sockets even more elongated. The creature appeared to have a large, bird-like beak, which was open, quite wide. The skeletal creature didn't appear to have teeth at all. The creature's torso was rather small, in comparison with its wingspan, which must've been, easily, seventeen feet; its wings nearly covered the distance of the entire ceiling, in fact. From the back of its head, a large, bony protrusion pointed outwards, ending in a curl.

"W-what is it? Or, I suppose it would be more appropriate to ask, what was it?" Misaki inquired, softly, continuing to look up at the creature's visible ribcage, as she, her husband, the tiny, former Magic God, and Academy City's "top dog" passed beneath it.

An unexpected voice provided the quartet with an answer. "Pterodactylus, a genus of pterosaurs. More popularly known as "a pterodactyl". Supposedly, at least. Not certain what to make of this. It sounds, to me, like a fairly tall tale… there's more to read, about this specimen, if you look closely, in the center of its ribcage. A plaque dangles. Quite easy to miss; I certainly missed it, the first go 'round."

Kamijou Touma recognized the voice immediately. Though deep, there was something instinctually comforting, about the sound of the voice, like that of a protective father figure; or, that of a knowledgeable, trustworthy teacher. "Kagun-sensei?!"

The neck of Kamijou Misaki tilted to her left. She, too, had recognized the source of the vocalization. The young woman's lips curled, upwards, into a warm, knowing smile, her fears cast aside. Whatever the creature was, or had been, before it'd died, was unimportant; it was a skeletal structure, something long dead.

Kihara Kagun, on the other hand, was anything but dead. He was tall, dark, and, even by Touma's, a straight man's own internal admission, incredibly handsome. Kagun possessed a full head of thick, dark hair, which was rather short, his hair's fringe swept, slightly, to the left. Grey-colored streaks were visible, though, they weren't many; instead, there were only a few. His sideburns were trimmed, shortened. His eyebrows, though thick, were somehow pulled off just right, suiting him perfectly.

Kagun's face was anything but youthful. Both Accelerator and the married couple could see that the pink, slightly tanned skin stretched over his skull bore wrinkles that had come knocking some twenty years too early. Othinus had been the first to make a mental note of this fact, as her little lips curled downwards, into a frown. Kagun's eyes were calm, his dark-colored irises like small, but secure ports in a storm.

The older-seeming man, Kihara Kagun, was dressed casually. A leather jacket, unbuttoned, revealing a simplistic, tight-fitting black shirt was beneath adorned his torso. The long-sleeved, leather jacket worn by Kagun was close to being the color of tree bark. Dark brown, it was slightly wrinkled, though, not to any extreme degree.

Kagun's choice in legwear was just as casual; a simplistic pair of light-colored blue jeans, that clung to his legs, and his waist, but not too tightly, held in place by a dark-colored belt, crafted from what looked like leather, with a bronze-colored, square-shaped belt buckle. For footwear, Kagun was clad in a pair of work boots. Chestnut-colored, their soles were black, like the color of coal.

With Kihara Kagun, however, was an unfamiliar face, that caused three of the quartet's members to search their respective memories, to attempt to recall the individual's identity. Accelerator had no such memory loss issues; Academy City's "top dog" knew exactly who the individual was, and what that individual meant to him.

The "mystery" individual's hair was a darker shade of brown than Kagun's own. Falling to his shoulders, it was delicately combed, its bangs trimmed, his hair's fringe trimmed, as well, hovering a few inches away from his hairline. His cheeks, his upper lip, and his chin were adorned with soft, and fuzzy-looking facial hair, as was his neck, and laryngeal prominence. Unlike the face of Kihara Kagun, the "mystery" individual's face was youthful, and without even a single wrinkle, or blemish.

He was broad-shouldered, though, he was nowhere near as large as Kamijou Touma. His torso lacked the same width, and muscularity as Touma's, though, the "mystery" individual's arms were more muscular, due to being shorter than Touma's own arms.

His torso was clad in a dark-colored, button up shirt, the buttons of which were small, square-shaped, and cream-colored. The top's collar was tucked, downwards, and was tucked, quite formally, into a pair of dark-colored, hemmed denim pants, the cuffs of which were rolled upwards, once, revealing a lighter shade of silver.

On his feet, the individual wore a pair of simple, cheap-looking dress shoes, which were dark, in coloration, their laces rather thin. His left arm's wrist was adorned with an expensive-looking watch. The watch's band was made up of small, interlocked metallic bars, which were silver, as was the watch's square-shaped case.

Academy City's "top dog" took a step forward, his crimson eyes locked with the bluish-green irises, and the dark-colored pupils of the individual whom the married couple, and Othinus seemed to be having a problem identifying. Accelerator's hands had returned to his pockets, where they were stuffed, tightly, and roughly. The fingers within twisted over one another.

"Kihara-kun," Accelerator stated, firmly, his attention fully on the individual across from him. "You're the last person I'd ever expected to see."

Kamijou Touma's memory suddenly snapped back into place, like the missing piece of a puzzle had been inserted into the right place, to form the "big picture". Just as he was about to move towards Accelerator, his right hand, and the impossible power within ready to restrain Academy City's "top dog", Accelerator's own right hand was removed, from his pocket, and extended, outwards, in a friendly gesture.

Everything was fine, between the two. Obviously, there was no bad blood, at least on Accelerator's end of the matter. Kamijou Touma breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fucking thing's not on, Kihara-kun. Relax. Reconstructive surgery allows me to walk without needing a stupid cane. As long as I've got the thing plugged in, I'm good. Don't need it on. I promise."

With only a few seconds' hesitation, the individual across from Accelerator seemed to take his word, and placed his own left hand into Accelerator's right. Their arms shook, as the individual smiled, knowingly, his grin wide, and somewhat goofy-looking. Kihara Kagun chuckled, at the sight.

"Accelerator-san! You're hardly who I expected to see, either," the individual remarked. "I'm… forgive me, I'm a bit startled, is all. You're not usually one to frequent these types of establishments. How is everything? How are Last Order and Worst? Anything new about Estelle? Heard rumors you two were an item, but, I didn't believe it. It's not true, is it? Don't lie to me!"

"The dumbass necromancer?" Accelerator rhetorically inquired. "Hardly. She's a close friend. A pretty dear friend to me, nothing more. The brats are fine. The bigger brat's been doing things with her friends lately. Good to see her out, I guess."

"As I assumed," the individual stated, with a sagely nod. "I'm glad to hear it. They're both a couple of dears."

"Kihara Gunpei?"

Kamijou Touma had closed the distance between himself, and the individual, whom Accelerator had been conversing with. Kamijou Misaki, with Othinus on her shoulder, spoke with Kihara Kagun, whom she had finished shaking hands with.

Kagun had leaned forward, addressing the tiny, former Magic God, seemingly mocking her, as Othinus had turned her head from him, and was pouting, with her arms folded across her tiny chest. He placed his right hand's index finger to the top of Othinus' head, and stroked it. Othinus fought, but couldn't stop the blush that formed on her little cheeks, as she seemingly surrendered, and began to nuzzle Kihara Kagun's finger.

"Kamijou Touma. Oh, God, my man. How are you? It's been… to Hell with it. Come 'ere, you big ox."

The two embraced, as words were cast aside. Kamijou Touma threw his arms around Kihara Gunpei, as Kihara Gunpei did to Kamijou Touma. Patting one another on the back, they both chuckled aloud. They, aside from another young couple, who were in the back of the museum, enthralled by a small, water-based exhibit, were the only visitors.

"Kamijou Touma! You bastard! How's everything?! This is something wild!" Kihara Gunpei exclaimed, breaking away from the musclebound young man. Touma's wife, Kamijou Misaki approached, and offered the other young man her own hand, kindly. Respectfully, Kihara Gunpei took her right hand into his left, and shook it, gently.

"Kamijou Misaki! Tokiwadai's Once-Queen! You're as gorgeous as ever. Touma's one lucky man. You're a lucky woman, too, you know. I'd be down to date him. I like the women, but, I'd make an exception for this man quicker than you could say…"

"Gunpei," Kagun scolded, chuckling. "Come, now. You'll offend."

"It is fine," Kamijou Misaki giggled, taking her hand back. She pressed her body against her husband's, who wrapped his right arm around her shoulders. Misaki stood up on her toes, and kissed her beloved on his right cheek. In exchange, Touma kissed the top of his wife's head, lovingly, multiple times, as she spoke. "Kihara-san is only playing."

"What brings your dumb ass here, Kihara-kun?" Accelerator inquired. "Surprised you don't have your face stuffed into a book, or some shit. Fucking bookworm."

"Well, you see," Kihara Gunpei began, turning his attention to Kihara Kagun, who looked to his "relative", and shrugged, indifferently, "when two people love one another very much, they usually don't spend a lot of time with anyone else. In layman's terms, I was lucky to get Kagun-chan away from his "precious pookie-thing". Serious lack of bro appreciation, here. You're going to smother her. You've got to spend some time with the bros!"

Kihara Kagun sighed, exasperated. "I thought I told you not to tell anyone about that."

With the same amount of enthusiasm displayed by Kihara Kagun, not moments prior, Kihara Gunpei shrugged, indifferently, before he suddenly began grinning, and mockingly clicking his tongue. "Secrets are meant to be spilled. Besides, it's harmless fun. Not like it's hurting anyone. It's fun, because you're so easy to annoy."

Kihara Gunpei, more enthusiastically, turned his attention away from the grumbling Kihara Kagun, and back to Accelerator, who'd folded his arms across his chest.

While Kamijou Touma, and Kamijou Misaki had drifted away from the small group that had formed, and towards a plastic diorama that displayed what appeared to be an open field, with green, flowing grasses, and a large, dark-colored spot in the center, which could apparently be moved about by tugging on multiple long, red-tipped knobs, Othinus had ended up on Kagun's right shoulder, from where she whispered into the older-seeming man's right ear. He seemed to agree what was being said, as he nodded, once or twice, before he smirked, maliciously. Othinus was impishly grinning, as well.

"Accelerator-san! I'm glad you asked! Really glad, in fact! Reliable sources, when it comes to these subjects, are hard to find, but, this museum seems to have its facts in order, to some extent. It's a good start, at least."

Accelerator clicked his tongue. "A good start to what? You still haven't answered the fucking question, Kihara-kun. What crazy shit are you after?"

"What crawled up into your sphincter and unceremoniously proceeded to die?!" Kihara Gunpei rhetorically inquired, his tone of voice mocking, but jovial. Accelerator couldn't stop himself from chuckling, quietly, as he shook his head. "Have you ever heard of the "Mothman of Academy City", Accelerator-san?"

The facial expression of the "top dog" of Academy City, the look of disapproval caused Kihara Gunpei to throw his head back, and laugh loudly, like some sort of deranged, woodlands-stalking creature of the night. He slapped his right knee, with the corresponding hand, as he stumbled backwards.

"Don't tell me you've become one of those urban legend fucks. Put up with that shit enough in fucking high school, really don't need it now."

"Urban legend?" Kihara Gunpei inquired, approaching Accelerator, and then leaning inwards, as if he was about to tell the "number one" a secret. "This is no urban legend, Accelerator-san. The Mothman of Academy City is real. I'm tellin' you, it's real. I think its been taking lessons from our old friend, Kamijou Touma. Saved a man from drowning in an artificial lake, it did; scooped him out of the water. This place's got an exhibit, even! So much evidence, Accelerator-san. Humor an old buddy, and come check it out with me, yeah?"

"Did you put Kagun through this shit, too?" Accelerator inquired, as the two took their leave. Apparently, Accelerator was along for the ride. Kagun looked up from the tiny, former Magic God, who was perched upon his shoulder, and, looking towards Accelerator, Kagun rolled his eyes.

"He did," Kagun confirmed. "It really is quite fascinating, though. Worth a look, if I do say so. There certainly are things in this place that are difficult to explain. Some things more benign than others."

Shrugging, Accelerator stuffed his hands into his pockets, and followed behind the giddy, enthusiastically-marching Kihara Gunpei. The young man, about his age, was happy, and curious, but obviously not morbidly so. If Kihara Gunpei was interested in trite like this, he certainly couldn't have been walking the same dark route his father had walked, all those years ago. This was safe, and innocent. Accelerator was only able to silently hope.

The two passed by multiple exhibits, which ran along the rightmost wall of the museum. One, which caught Accelerator's attention was made up of a series of photographs, along with a large sign, approximately four feet wide, and three or four feet in height, which was mounted on a metallic beam, rising from the carpeted floor.

Both the sign, and the beam that elevated it were cream, in coloration, an almost dull shade of white. Upon the surface of the sign, there were more photographs, each surrounded by blurbs of text in multiple languages, including English, Japanese, and Spanish; Accelerator could recognize only certain words of the latter.

The photographs, both mounted upon the wall, and printed on the surface of the sign, depicted something squatting on a lower branch of some type of tree that Accelerator had never seen before. Its bark was a shade of light brown, its leaves a shade of bright, almost emerald green.

The unknown existence, squatting on one of the tree's lower, rightmost branches appeared almost monkey-like, but it was far too large to be any type of monkey Accelerator had ever seen; it was nearly the size of a fully-grown mountain gorilla.

Its face was cloaked in shadow, its eyes glowing bright red. The creature's hair-covered body was grey. Its shoulders were wide, and broad, its arms and legs extremely long, even when compared with the overall size of the rest of its body.

"Devil Monkey," Kihara Gunpei stated, as if to answer Accelerator's internalized inquiries, as to the identity of the strange creature. "Supposed to be lurking around overseas, in America. Best photographic evidence yet."

Accelerator clicked his tongue, in annoyance, as the two carried on. Accelerator heard Kamijou Misaki gasp, before she, and her husband, began to laugh. "I did not expect to open that flap and see… that! Ogopogo!"

"Ogopogo, beautiful," Accelerator heard Touma remark.

"Remind me to never go swimming again, husband."

He would've grinned, and shook his head, as usual, but, there was something wrong. The musculature of the creature, the way it was hunched forwards, like a feral, savage thing, so non-human, squatting on that lower branch, it was all wrong. It couldn't have just been some prankster in a suit. If it was a suit, of some type, it would've deeply impressed the "top dog" of Academy City.

The mental image of the "Devil Monkey" climbing down from the tree, and then, unzipping its torso, and its throat, revealing itself to be a grinning, giggling Misaka Worst zoomed past Accelerator's mind's eye.

Accelerator's legs' slow, but steady movements came to a grinding halt, as he nearly crashed head-first into Kihara Gunpei, who'd stopped, and was looking, downwards, towards a sign, which stood in front of him. Unlike the previous instance, the sign was pressed against the wall, rather than being mounted upon a metallic beam.

It, like the previous sign, was cream-colored, with large, neatly-written black-colored Japanese characters, of multiple dialects, running up and down its surface.

"THE MOTHMAN'S LAIR", the sign read.

Next to the sign, there was a large entranceway, which was present in the rightmost wall. Accelerator couldn't help himself, or even begin to attempt to fight the felling that was overtaking him; he was impressed.

The level of attention to detail that had been put into the design of the entranceway was commendable. It resembled the mouth of a cave, slender, and jagged, as if it had formed there, naturally. It was a shade of dark grey, its outer surfaces bumpy-looking, like the entranceway was made from naturally-formed rocks. Whatever was within, if there was, indeed, anything within, was completely obscured. Beyond the entranceway, there was only pure, inky darkness.

Kihara Gunpei raised his left eyebrow, and tilted his head to the side. He puckered his lips, and inquired, quite mockingly, "what's the matter, Accelerator-san? Afraid of the dark? Did you forget to bring your nightlight?"

"I'll jam a fucking nightlight in your asshole, Kihara-kun," Accelerator responded. Kihara Gunpei struggled to hold back a chuckle, as Accelerator stormed into the entranceway, descending into complete, inky darkness.

At first, he'd nearly tripped, and fallen; apparently, there was a staircase, which ran downwards. Accelerator's right foot was carefully lowered, downwards, onto the first step, and, then, his left joined his right. Each of the steps weren't particularly far from away from one another. There was very little space between them at all, in fact. Accelerator took the next step, repeating the process.

The steps' surfaces were soft, like the floors outside of the cave mouth-like entranceway, suggesting that they, too, were carpeted; Accelerator's restricted vision was incapable of confirming this, however.

The "top dog" of Academy City couldn't even see his hands, when he could feel himself raising them, up in front of his face, as he descended the staircase. Accelerator walked, straight, lowering his hands, and placing them in front of him.

Suddenly, as if life had come crashing down into a primordial sea of nothingness, golden, synthetic light illuminated all things. Accelerator quickly flicked his choker on, and, with the aid of the Misaka Network, deflected the light away from him. Accelerator successfully opened his eyes, which were protected from the sudden onslaught of golden illumination.

"Pranked!" Kihara Gunpei exclaimed, enthusiastically, as he began to laugh, like some sort of deranged hyena. "The lights got Kagun-chan, too. Got me good, even, on the first time around! It'd be nice if the flash was instant, huh?"

"You didn't fucking "prank" me, you twat," Accelerator commented. "I just redirected the light with my ability. Did you really, honestly think some cheap fucking parlor trick like that would get to me? I'm the top dog."

Gunpei gasped, mockingly, as he stormed past Accelerator; the "top dog" of Academy City just barely had enough time to flick his choker off, which successfully prevented the other man from being passively deflected. Shouldering his way past Accelerator, Kihara Gunpei rushed down the staircase.

The walls were tight, and cramped. If Accelerator didn't know any better, he would've sworn that the walls were closing in on him. They, like the cave mouth-like entranceway above, were made up of bumpy, and natural-looking rock formations. Dark grey, there were small, eyeball-sized holes visible within the rocky walls, from which golden, synthetic light emerged.

The ceiling, only a foot or two away from the top of Accelerator's head also shared the "natural" motif, which "the Mothman's Lair" was apparently striving to achieve. It was bumpy, and colored dark grey, though, rather than being made up of a series of rocks, it seemed to have been constructed of some type of plastic, or, perhaps, a thin and flexible metallic substance. There was the occasional bulb, a few of which were mounted to the passageway's ceiling, providing lighting.

For some moments, Accelerator continued to descend the staircase, which, on more than one occasion, turned to the left, and, then, to the right, curling, and twisting and turning. Soon enough, Academy City's "top dog" emerged from the passageway, and into a room that was far smaller than what he'd expected; though, Accelerator had to admit to himself that he hadn't quite known what he should've been expecting, at all.

The room, which Accelerator had stepped foot into was circular, in its shape. Its walls were like those within the passageway, the only noticeable difference being the size of the rocks, which had been used in the construction of the room's walls; they were far larger, and even more bumpy. The floor of the room, like the floor above, and like the individual steps that'd lead downwards, was carpeted, dark blue in coloration.

Both Accelerator, and Kihara Gunpei had been bathed in a light blue, almost cyan light, which was beamed down onto the room's floors, and walls, from its bumpy, plastic or metallic ceiling. In the ceiling's center, a large, round bulb was set, which produced the cyan light; the only lighting in the room.

"Accelerator-san! You made it without issue! I'm proud of you," Kihara Gunpei remarked, with a snide, impish snicker. Accelerator was almost immediately reminded of Misaka Worst, and, subsequently, an unusual shiver ran down his spine.

Kihara Gunpei gestured, forwards; standing, a few feet away from the easternmost wall, was another large statue. Unlike the statue that sat outside of the museum, however, it was surrounded by silver, metallic railings, which rose to the statue's knees. A small sign hung from the westernmost railing, suspended by a pair of dark-colored, chain-link constructs, which were wrapped around the railing, like a serpent's body might've wrapped itself around a tree branch.

"NOT LEGITIMATE TAXIERMIZED MOTHMAN – FALSE STATUE CREATED BY ERIC WISE . BASED ON EYEWITNESS TESTIMONIES", the sign read. Accelerator raised his right eyebrow, and clicked his tongue.

Kihara Gunpei stood at Accelerator's side, folding his arms across his chest, and producing a soft, curious "hmm."

"So? What do you think, man?

The statue certainly did depict something different. While the exterior statue depicting "a Sasquatch" had been tall, this statue was, at the very least a foot or two taller; this statue was thirteen, or fourteen feet tall, by Accelerator's estimates.

The statue was covered in what looked like, but weren't, in fact, feathers. Dark red, almost resembling the color of iron rich blood, the statue was feathered, from its top, to its ankles; its three-toed feet, which looked to be, but weren't, in fact, covered in scales, lacked any sort of faux feathers. Each of its six toes ended in flat, and dull, but quite thick claws, which were dark, in coloration, like the color of a bar of dark chocolate.

It possessed no head, and no neck. Rather, the statue's face was in the upper center of its torso, and protruded, slightly, from the surface of the statue's upper torso. Two wide, and almost wild-looking, beady, dark red-colored, and obviously false eyes were set, in the upper center of its torso, with a small, beak-like protrusion a feet inches below either eye.

It lacked arms; rather, in place of arms, the statue possessed a large wing on either side of its upper torso, each of which was permanently folded back. Protruding, from the outer ends of either of the wings' primaries was a large hand, with three long, clawed fingers, either of which looked to be, but wasn't, in fact, covered in scales.

The statue lurched forward, its right leg bent, extended outwards, in front of the other, its left wing folded farther back than its right, which looked like it was about to reach out, and grab at the two young men who observed it. Accelerator walked to the right side of the statue; he'd seen something.

His sight was proved to him to be anything but faulty, despite his short-lived doubts, once he'd made his way to the right side of the thing. Accelerator stuffed either of his hands into their corresponding pockets, in his pants, and grunted. Trailing, from the top of the statue's "headless" torso, two long, tail-like protrusions were present, reaching halfway down the statue's back, close to where its buttocks would've been, if the statue possessed one. Feather-like "hairs" jutted out, from the surfaces of either tail-like protrusion.

"What the fuck do I think?" Accelerator rhetorically inquired. Academy City's "top dog" slowly began retracing his steps, and, facing the almost giddy-looking Kihara Gunpei, Accelerator answered his own question. "I think it's a pile of shit. I know this girl who's obsessed with this shit, more than anyone, and she's never found a fucking, single thing, when it comes to this urban legend trash. It's fake, shit, bologna, Kihara-kun. Fucking nonsense."

Kihara Gunpei seemed to become even more giddy; it was almost as if Accelerator's denial of the existence, of the creature which the statue supposedly depicted only made Gunpei more excited. "Okay, okay, I get it, Accelerator-san!" Gunpei exclaimed, almost feverishly. "Look at this. After I showed Kagun-chan this, even he was starting to believe. He was just like you, Accelerator-san! I don't blame you! I used to be the same, but, my eyes are open, now! Just look at this! You'll AWAKEN!"

Accelerator paid only a glance to the mess of photographs, and picture-less pages, full of neatly-written text, in multiple languages, including Japanese, English, and Spanish which were attached to either side of the easternmost wall, behind the statue. Each was held in place with small, translucent pieces of tape set over all four of their respective corners. Accelerator sighed, as he followed Kihara Gunpei, who was practically in a state of childlike wonder, towards a large, stone-carved, circular, table-like piece of furniture, in the center of the room.

Upon further inspection, what Accelerator had initially assumed to have been a table was, in fact, a basin-like structure, its inner surfaces covered, from top to bottom, completely, in photographs which supposedly depicted "the Mothman of Academy City". Some photographs depicted it mid-flight, while others depicted it lurking in dense, wooded areas, between foliage, and broken tree branches.

One set of six photographs, pasted above one another, in two sets of three, depicted a small, dark red-colored blot, which was apparently supposed to represent "the Mothman of Academy City" clinging to the side of the Windowless Building, in school district seven.

In the center of the basin-like structure, there was a round screen, which was encased in a translucent, protective material, of some type, likely thick glass, or, perhaps, translucent plastic. Kihara Gunpei's left hand's index finger fell upon a small, round-shaped button, which was placed next to the encased screen.

Swiftly, and excitedly pushing the button down, Gunpei set either of the palms of his hands around the outer edges of the basin-like structure, with an excited-looking grin stretched across his lower face. Accelerator watched, unenthusiastically, as the screen faded from darkened nothingness, to white, and, then, to the image of a scene containing, among other things, in the foreground, a long, metallic bridge.

The diagonal beams of the bridge were pristine, in their condition, looking as if they'd recently been hosed down, and scrubbed to perfection, which very well may have been the case, crisscrossing over one another. A sea of tall, milky-colored skyscrapers, and other large, urban structures were visible, in the background; Accelerator recognized the Windowless Building, of school district seven, which stood out from the rest of the structures that surrounded it, and beat them all out, in terms of height.

Beneath the bridge, a large, glistening body of water was present; it was in that moment that Accelerator realized he wasn't looking at a still image. The water's glistening was perpetual, and small, but noticeable currents drifted back and forth. Upon further inspection, airborne, winged creatures, birds, quite obviously, could be seen moving across the overcast sky.

A calm, collected, and slow-speaking voice became audible. Accelerator responded by leaning forward, as if to try and hear the soft-spoken voice better.

"I-is this thing on? Testing, testing. One, two, three. I hope this thing's on. Oh, well. If it's not, it's not. Scenery's nice, at least. The date today is December the twenty-first, twenty twelve. No, this has absolutely nothing to do with the Mayan nonsense you've likely been hearing about.

"Hello, and… if you're watching this, if this camera is even working, you're probably going to think I'm completely mad, by the end of this recording. I'm not; I promise, I swear on my mother's grave, rest her soul, I'm not.

"My name is Matsushita Akihiko, and… you may know me as the developer behind the popular treasure-seeking application, TresrFindr. That's not what's important. What's important is what happened to me, here, three days ago."

Accelerator turned to Kihara Gunpei, whose attention was entirely focused on the video being displayed. "Matsushita Akihiko" hadn't shown himself, only speaking from behind the camera. Academy City's "top dog" wasn't impressed.

"Keep watching, keep listening," Gunpei remarked, feverishly. "This guy knows the truth. Matsushita's stinkin' rich, he'd have no reason to lie. Right?!"

"I'd fallen into the river. See? It's… swollen? Is that the right word? There's more water than usual, because of the rain. I'd misjudged my step, and, the small riverbank I'd been standing upon gave way. Caught unawares, I'd fallen face-first, and, in my panic, my mouth had opened. I'd tried to scream. I only ended up intaking river water.

"To make a long story not so long, something rescued me, from the river's raging rapids. Tall, dark, with feathers… they were without a single doubt, feathers… the color of blood. I… don't really remember how it happened, it's all sort of a blur, but, I'd found myself on solid ground, laying in the grass, on my back, staring up at the sky; though, I was freezing cold, shivering, even, I was alive.

"It looked down at me, with big, wide eyes, the same color as its feathers, like it was sizing me up. They were glowing, like the headlights of a car. At first, I felt like a carnivore was after me. It clicked with this beak-like appendage, and tilted its face… head… it didn't… really… have a head, just a face, where its breasts should've been.

"So, trying to be polite, I remarked, "thank you, kind sir or ma'am. You've saved my life." It seemed to understand, to an extent. It shook its head, and then just… flew away, like a giant bird. Some of its feathers fell off."

Matsushita Akihiko raised his closed hand upwards, and held, in front of the camera, a fistful of dark red feathers. Each was larger than the youthful hand itself, either end of the feather protruding from each side of the closed fist.

"They're big, aren't they? I've had them analyzed. Another set of five are, as of this recording, also being analyzed. These ones produced no conclusive results, in regards to a match. I have one more thing I'd like to show you, dear viewer, before I bring this… presentation? to a close."

The camera produced a series of clicking noises, as it was, apparently, pried, and then lifted away from something, most likely a tripod. The camera was moved towards, and began filming the ground. In the mud, were a collection of enormous, three-toed footprints. They were deeply sunken, as if the body of the existence that'd produced them weighed hundreds of pounds.

Accelerator immediately found himself doubtful; if "the Mothman of Academy City" was, indeed, that heavy, how could it have achieved liftoff? Its wings, surely, must've been extremely powerful. Academy City's "top dog" clicked his tongue, and watched on.

Matsushita Akihiko placed his own foot, clad in a simplistic, leather loafer, light brown in coloration, next to one of the deep, three-toed footprints in the mud. The three-toed footprint, was, at least, four times the size of Akihiko's own.

"There is something out here, watching over us, Academy City. It means us no harm. It is our friend, our protector, our guardian angel. If you… oh, my, this sounds so silly.

"If you, whatever you are, somehow manage to hear this, or see this… "Mothman", if you can understand me, let's be friends. There's a lot we could learn from one another. Thank you, again, sir or ma'am, for saving my life. Are there more of you, I wonder? Maybe, you, and us, humans, maybe we could all become friends."

The video faded to white, and, within a few seconds, the encased screen faded to black, apparently shutting itself off.

"So?!" Kihara Gunpei inquired, almost jumping in place. "It's the real deal, isn't it?!"

"No, Kihara-kun," Accelerator stated, firmly, before he turned his back. Accelerator made his way towards the staircase, and began walking up the stairs, back towards the upper level of the museum.

Unperturbed, Kihara Gunpei pressed down on the yellow button, once again, and, as if hypnotized, watched on, curiously, as the video began to play again. Accelerator, who was nearly halfway up the staircase, shook his head, and rubbed his temples, with the index fingers of his left and right hands, as he heard the video's audio starting up, a second time. A rather troublesome headache was forming. Maybe, the more reasonable individuals on the museum's ground floor could cure it.


	18. Parting Ways, Coming Together

Kamijou Touma was puzzled. With Kamijou Misaki at his side, he looked downwards, his vision beginning to focus on a small display. Elevated from the floor, and propped up by a metallic beam, the display's surface couldn't have been any larger than a few feet in width, and in height.

Aside from large blocks of textual material, accompanied by dark and blurry photographs, there was something odd, indeed; sprouting from a circular hole in the display, there was a large, round-shaped clump of hair. Ashen, the clump almost looked more like a mess of dirt and weeds than hair from an animal.

Directly above the clump of hair, there was a smaller blurb of text. Highlighted, and bolded, the Japanese characters told a short story.

"Chupacabra hair sample: discovered in New Mexico, after wild specimen purportedly fled from a militia of gunmen who'd been hunting the specimen, which had mortally wounded their livestock, and had ransacked their respective lands. Though the specimen survived, this and other clumps of hair remained behind. Shrapnel has been removed for your touching pleasure."

Kamijou Misaki seemed to be fixated on reading one of the leftmost blurbs. Her eyes quickly scanned from one side of the blurb to the other, her arms folded beneath her impressive, perfect bosom; the bosom Touma had his wife's permission to do just about anything with.

Rather than distract his curious lover, Kamijou Touma took it upon himself to touch the clump of hair with his left hand. It certainly helped to distract Touma's own mind from his own 'dirty' thoughts.

The clump was rough to the touch, like a patch of brambles. Almost wiry, as well, the clump felt less like it was made up of a mess of hair, and more like it was made up of some sort of string-like metallic substance. The outwards appearance of the clump essentially debunked the idea of the clump actually being made up of a metallic substance, however.

"What does it feel like?" Misaki inquired, craning her next to her right. Her golden, starry eyes locked with Touma's own; for a moment, he was completely transfixed. Accelerator's words drifted into his subconscious mind, for a moment, before they soon began to fade away.

Just what was Kamijou Misaki even capable of? Perhaps she had greater abilities that she, herself wasn't even aware of. Or, alternatively, and much more realistically, perhaps her husband was just completely obsessed with his wife. Whatever the case, the butterflies that flew chaotically from side to side within his stomach were nowhere near ready to settle in for the night.

In fact, said butterflies were ushering in a new wave of "dirty" thoughts into the mind of Kamijou Touma. Though he attempted to fight them off, at first, he quickly found himself at their mercy. Touma gulped, awkwardly.

What Kamijou Touma did know for certain was that Kamijou Misaki was completely stunning; the most beautiful woman in the entire world. The longer he looked into her starry eyes, at her soft, kissable lips, and at her cute nose, Touma felt himself falling more and more in love, falling head over heels again and again.

Even if he'd been married to this woman for the last five years, Touma's love hadn't weakened in the slightest. On the contrary, it grew with every passing day he spent at her side.

"Uh," Touma eventually managed to spit out. "Sorry, beautiful. I got… uh, I spaced out. Tired, I guess. It feels wiry. It doesn't really feel like hair at all, but it looks like proper hair, I guess."

Standing up on her toes, Kamijou Misaki gently pecked her beloved on his right cheek, strategically avoiding his lips, and the desire to do so much more than just kiss him.

"Does it, now? I hope you are not too tired. I have many festivities in mind, and I would prefer not to wait until tomorrow night to engage in them," Misaki remarked, in a hushed tone.

"Festivities, you say, Kamijou-chan? I wasn't invited? What a shame, indeed. I've always been a fan of wholesome, family-friendly festivities."

Misaki spun on her heel. A few feet behind her, a giggling, blushing Othinus was mounted upon the shoulder of Kihara Kagun, who raised an eyebrow and grinned, as if to say "busted". Kamijou Misaki's cheeks were just as pink as those of she and her husband's "prisoner".

Kamijou Touma admitted defeat, and rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly, with his right hand. In his left, he took the right of Kamijou Misaki, who, even in an ever so slightly embarrassing moment was more than willing to hold hands with her husband.

"Y-yeah, Kagun. Uh, festivities. It's, uh… yeah… it's, uh, not what you think."

"Kagun, it's exactly what you think."

The anti-Kihara specialist broke down laughing, suddenly, as if he'd heard the funniest thing in the world. Othinus seemed amused, but not quite as amused as Kihara Kagun was. She clung tightly onto his jacket, to ensure that she wouldn't be tossed down to the cold and equally unforgiving floor below.

The Kamijous soon found themselves joining Kagun in laughter, the awkwardness of being "caught" quickly shrugged off.

Accelerator's voice suddenly became audible, following a series of creaks. Kamijou Touma tilted his head to his left. From an opening in the museum's wall, which looked more like the naturally-formed mouth of a cave than any sort of manmade entranceway, Accelerator emerged. He looked drained, as if something within had seriously tired him out. Touma wasn't sure how he'd managed to miss it previously, but evidently he had done so.

After planting a short, but sweet kiss on his wife's cheek, Touma broke away, and approached the waddling Accelerator, who looked like he needed a nap, or a place to sit, at least.

"Accel, man, you alright?" Touma inquired, his tone of voice one of concern. Accelerator clicked his tongue, but didn't respond at first. Eventually, after a deep breath, he seemed to muster up the energy to verbally respond.

"Of course I'm alright," Accelerator responded. Stuffing either of his hands into his pockets, he tossed his head to one side, causing his bangs, and his hair's messy fringe to be tossed away from his face, however momentarily. "Kihara-kun is a fucking life-draining force. He's like a hyperactive little kid. It's like raising… I mean, fuck… it's like having the smaller brat follow me around all over again."

Accelerator lowered his tone of voice to a whisper before he continued to speak. Softly, he remarked, "not used to being out this much, either, hero. Brats usually only keep me out for an hour or so a day."

"I can confirm this," Kagun spoke. "Some things and some people never change. Gunpei-kun is among some of those people."

Academy City's "top dog" produced a soft, but drawn-out sigh. Closing the distance between himself and the display, which Kamijou Misaki, Kihara Kagun, and, by association, Othinus had crowded around, he stood to its left, and grunted, unenthusiastically.

Kamijou Touma was quick to join the crowd that'd formed around the display; his footfalls caused the flooring beneath the museum's carpeted surface to creak, and groan.

Taking to his beloved's side, he wrapped his right arm around Misaki's shoulders, and pulled her close. Either of Kamijou Misaki's arms were quickly placed around her husband's waist, as she lovingly nuzzled him.

Without warning, Misaki was in pain; her womanhood ached, suddenly. It was a familiar pang; one of primal desire. Misaki wanted nothing more than to become one with her beloved, her sunshine, her everything. Kamijou Touma's wife sighed, quietly, as her body awkwardly quivered. The temporary relief obtained within the lift car had passed, the storm resuming.

Kamijou Touma felt the tremors; partially, he experienced his wife's body vibrating against him. His grip only tightened around Kamijou Misaki's shoulder. He could barely keep his eyes from drifting downwards, towards her bosom. He wanted to grab onto her breasts, suckle and feed from them, as she patted his head, comfortingly.

"Chupa… what?" Accelerator rhetorically questioned, peering down at the display's text-covered surface. Kamijou Touma's illusions were swiftly shattered. "What the fuck is a "Chupacabra", and why the fuck is it so hard to photograph the stupid thing? These pictures look like shit. It could be a housecat, or a dog. It's probably intentional; harder to disprove a blurry-ass photo."

"That's the easy way out, Accelerator-san! Skepticism is the coward's way out! Question everything, and don't believe a word you hear! TRUST me!"

Kihara Gunpei had evidently left the "Mothman of Academy City" exhibit behind. Like Accelerator before him, he'd emerged from the entranceway that was much more like the natural mouth of a cave than any manmade structure. As well, he'd evidently caught wind of Accelerator's remarks. Unlike Accelerator, however, Gunpei looked ecstatic, even unstable.

"Housecats and dogs, Accelerator-san? Housecats and dogs don't pin goats down and suck every drop of blood out of 'em! Like little, furry vampires, they are! Probably related to the good Count, too! I bet…"

Gunpei's tone of voice became a conspiratorial one; his words suddenly became hisses, as he whispered. Closing in on the group that'd formed around the Chupacabra display, he lurched. "I bet they're the good Count's minions, drinking blood for him.

"Then, when they return to the good Count, he cuts them open, just slashes them, and drinks the blood they drank, second-hand! They're like little blood bags for him, I bet. I've got this all figured out, I do."

"Don't be foolish. Vampires don't exist. Merely a myth, created by the unenlightened to explain natural phenomenon around them, which at the time, the unenlightened had been incapable of understanding normally," Kihara Kagun lied.

Before opening her mouth to speak, Kamijou Misaki looked from one side of their group to the other. The younger couple that'd been present had apparently left; the married couple, Academy City's "top dog", the tiny, former Magic God, and the anti-Kihara specialists were the only individuals within the museum's walls.

"Accelerator-san is aware of… the other side, Kagun," Misaki stated, quietly, following her security check. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortably. Knowing just what to do, as always, Kamijou Touma's arm tightened around his wife's shoulders, bringing comfort back to her life once again.

Kagun produced a soft, curious "hmm". "Does he, now? Certainly, it makes one wonder how long the "other side" as you put it can hide their secrets from the world. At this rate, I'd believe that each of this City's strongest are aware of the truth of the matter, to some extent or another. It's starting from the top, then, and working its way to the proverbial bottom. Not quite how I'd guessed it was going to play out."

Touma softly cleared his throat. "Actually, I don't think Mugino-san knows; not sure who the number six is, so nothing there." That was a lie, however. Touma, through his wife, knew well enough who the sixth strongest esper in Academy City was.

Gunpei had quietly closed the distance between himself and Accelerator, who was distracted. Either he'd given in or he was bored enough to begin reading the blurbs of text on the display. With his chin cupped in his right hand, his eyes darted from one side to the other within their respective sockets.

"Chupacabra are the good Count's minions. His little helpers; don't know why they only live overseas… the good Count lives in Transylvania. Maybe they can FLY!"

Academy City's "top dog" clicked his tongue, and turned to face Kihara Gunpei, who was practically shuddering in anticipation. "Dracula's a fucking book, Kihara-kun. Fiction, made up by some asshole with a wild imagination. There's no Count Dracula. Monsters like him? Fuck yeah, there are; but not him, exactly. You need to get out more often. Find yourself a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, whatever. Hell, get both. Build a fucking harem or some shit. The hero almost did. If that goofy asshole can, you can."

Accelerator yawned. His lips parted, and for a few moments he loudly took in oxygen. Afterwards, Academy City's "top dog" proceeded to close his mouth, and blink moisture out of his eyes. "Oi, hero, fifth ranked, one-eyed brat. I think I'm going to head home. I need to crash for a while.

"Feel free to get the nun, whenever. It doesn't matter to me; she can stay, if she wants, for however long, I guess. The nun's nice to have around. Spiffs everything up. Can't believe I'm saying shit like this; you've really fucked me, goddamn heroes."

Touma produced a warm, friendly chuckle. Patting Accelerator's left shoulder, the Bearer of the Imagine Breaker took a moment to face Accelerator, the number one strongest esper and offer him a wide grin. "No worries, Accel, man. We must've wore you out. We'll give Index a call and see what's up."

Temporarily releasing her husband's waist, Kamijou Misaki, without hesitation took Accelerator into her arms, and held him close in a friendly embrace. Awkwardly, Accelerator's weak-looking hands managed to find their way to Misaki's back, where he gave her a grand total of three awkward, but friendly pats.

"It was wonderful to have you spend the day with us, Accelerator-san. I am grateful for every moment we shared; I believe we should do this again soon, sometime, whenever you are free or otherwise feeling up to a day out. When you next manage to find Last Order in a sober state, could you tell her that I love her? Could you also relay the same message to little miss Worst?"

"Yeah. I can do that."

"Thank you, Accelerator-san. Take care. Again, thank you for the wonderful day. It was splendid to have you."

Accelerator parted from Kamijou Misaki. He grinned, almost malevolently, in the direction of Othinus, who, still perched upon Kagun's shoulder stuck her tongue out, and closed her functioning left eye's eyelids. Kihara Kagun himself nodded in Accelerator's direction; the latter nodded back, a sign of mutual respect between two men who needed no words.

There were words to be exchanged between Academy City's "top dog" and Kihara Gunpei, however. The latter seemed to have become considerably less jittery, and could hold himself with pride, his back straightened. Again, Accelerator's hand was offered to Kihara Gunpei, who took it into his own, and thoroughly shook it.

"It was… uh, it was good to see you, Kihara-kun," Accelerator remarked, fumbling over his words. Releasing the "top dog's" hand, allowing it to fall back at its owner's side along with the arm it was attached to, Kihara Gunpei bowed respectfully.

"Likewise, Accelerator-san. Say, don't be a stranger! You should come over, one day. I'll get this one," Gunpei motioned towards Kagun, "and this one's "precious pookie-thing" together. It's hilarious to watch them fumble around! It's like watching ants, I swear it! If you leave them alone for long enough periods of time, they end up cuddling like a couple of LOSERS!"

It was Accelerator's turn to look in Kagun's direction. Raising an eyebrow, Accelerator folded his arms across his chest and clicked his tongue, obviously unimpressed. "You going to take that from him? Fuck him up. Kihara-kun's a little dinkledick. He won't hit you back."

"For now," Kihara Kagun answered, cryptically. "That I can confirm. A great and massive dinkledick; though I detest violence, I may just find myself having to resort to drastic methods."

Accelerator snorted. With that, he turned his back and raised his left hand. With it, he offered a wave, a singular motion. Quietly, Accelerator stepped through the entranceway, exiting the museum, and leaving those he knew behind.

As he began to walk downwards, carefully following the steps that lead back down towards the pedestrian-only roadway, he spoke, "catch you later, fuckers. Hero, fifth ranked, don't get friction burn."

Flicking his choker on, Accelerator, aided by the Misaka Network proceeded to manipulate the refreshing breeze, which buffeted him and blew his clothing about. Controlling it as effortlessly as the average person could control their own eyelids' blinking, Accelerator formed on his back four great, perpetually twisting tornadoes.

From the middle of his spine they sprouted, snaking, and snapping at the air, as if they were living things. They weren't; they were little more than extensions of his own power.

In the blink of an eye he was off; having taken to the skies, he was unable to see, and likely wouldn't have cared about the crowds of onlookers who'd witnessed the use of his ability, and his subsequent accent. Smartphones had been produced, pictures were being snapped, and videos were being recorded.

Within the walls of the museum, matters were much calmer. As if compelled, the crowds had attempted to follow Accelerator, even though he'd already vanished from sight. The little cottage-like tourist trap had been completely ignored by the adoring, or otherwise curious crowds.

"So, beautiful, anything else you want to look over? No rush or anything, I'm in no hurry," Touma spoke. Kamijou Misaki took her husband's left hand into her own right, and, walking side by side as equals, she led her husband to the back of the museum, where several additional displays were presented. Kihara Kagun, Kihara Gunpei, and Othinus remained as a group, continuing to observe the Chupacabra display.

"I, actually, am in something of a hurry," Misaki whispered. Her footfalls quickened, and Touma's did the same to ensure that he could keep up to his wife. "I am having such a good night with you, as I always do; you are the light of my life, my warmth, my blood, my everything.

"I want to make love to you, and I can barely control the urge to do so. I do not think that I will be able to persevere much longer. I want to push you up against a wall, and I want you to thrust into me, until you cum, and cum, and cum. Can you do that for me, husband? Can you fuck me good, and release all of that pent-up semen for me?"

The answer was one that immediately rushed into Kamijou Touma's mind, surging through his thoughts and emerging as a vocalization, harsh, but soft, barely-whispered.

"Yeah. I can do that, Misaki. Maybe… uh, maybe we should go… uh… now, maybe? I'm kind of on the verge of taking you to the nearest bathroom and… uh… I'm losing it too, beautiful. I'm losing it too. Do you think we have a problem? We're not… addicts, you think? This is… you know, wanting to fuck like animals all the time is normal? Right?"

"Yes, husband; sex is the most normal thing in this world of ours. Acts of intimacy are to be expected between two people who love one another, no?" Misaki reassuringly, rhetorically inquired.

Kamijou Misaki swiftly turned her back to the displays she'd been approaching; like clockwork, she spun on her heel. Touma, detaching himself from his lover, for a moment did the same. Her lips had curled upwards, forming a grin of wild anticipation.

Tossing her head back, Misaki, with her husband's hand back in her own, their fingers interlocked, proceeded to close the distance between herself and the entranceway of the museum. Kamijou Touma's boiling desire hadn't physically manifested itself; but it was, indeed rushing throughout his veins, threatening to burst forth at any moment and overtake his rational higher mind.

"Othinus? Will you be coming along with us?" Misaki softly questioned, as the married couple approached. Rather than sitting upon one of Kihara Kagun's shoulders, the tiny, former Magic God sat upon his head, with her legs casually folded inwards. Othinus leaned back, the palms of her hands pressed against the scalp of the anti-Kihara specialist.

In response to her "co-jailer's" inquiry, Othinus leaned forward, and rested her elbows against the scalp of her human steed. "That depends. Where are you going?"

"Home, actually; I thought, perhaps, you were wishing to stay with Kagun. It has been some time since you have rendezvoused, after all," Misaki answered.

Rising, Othinus extended either of her arms, and reached out towards her "jailers". Tilting her little head to one side, Othinus smiled as her cheeks began to glow bright pink. Her visible, functioning left eye became oddly moist; the married couple could just barely see its twinkling beneath the dull, synthetic light of the museum.

"Family," Othinus stated, simply. "I want to return home with my family."

A smile crept across the face of Kihara Kagun, who offered the tiny, former Magic God his hand. Pressing its upturned palm against the side of his head, Othinus carefully stepped onto it. Kagun proceeded to lower his hand away from the side of his head, just as cautiously as Othinus had stepped onto it.

Kagun, almost condescendingly, began to stroke the top of Othinus' head with the index finger of his available hand. "It's likely for the best; there's plenty of… history, that would very possibly be dredged up. Dark times, those. I much prefer the brightness of the present, old friend."

If the physical affection didn't feel so amazing, Othinus likely would've tried to bat Kagun's finger away. "You're correct, "old friend". Dark times indeed… you really do know how to treat a girl, though. Could you get behind my ears, quickly? Just once or twice…"

Kihara Kagun had half-expected Kihara Gunpei to suddenly attempt to snatch up Othinus for himself; thankfully, when Kagun craned his neck to the right, Gunpei's attention seemed to have been again claimed by the "Devil Monkey" display. Gunpei stood before it with his arms folded across his chest. Back and forth he rocked on his heels and toes, causing the floor beneath him to loudly creak.

"I believe this is yours," Kagun remarked with a chuckle. Extending his hand outwards, with Othinus standing in his palm, Kamijou Misaki quickly scooped the tiny, former Magic God up. Kamijou Touma grinned down at Othinus, who looked to him and stuck out her tongue.

For some moments, the quartet allowed a comfortable silence to descend upon them. For some moments longer, they looked to one another.

Eventually, the first movements were made. Kihara Kagun smiled warmly, and closed the distance between himself and the married couple. Spreading his arms outwards, he took both Kamijou Misaki and Kamijou Touma into an embrace, which was returned by both parties.

"It was splendid seeing you again, Kamijou-san, Kamijou-chan. It has been some time since we last spoke, hasn't it? If my memory serves correctly, it has been at least six or seven months," Kagun spoke, silently contemplating what was truth, and were false memories. "What did we even do?"

"Your best guess is as good as mine," Touma said, mid-hug.

"Five months, actually," Misaki corrected. "My husband and I, along with you and your… friend? Maria, we walked at the Nature Park. Ice cream, and the little dog. Does that manage to ring any bells, Kagun? I recall the little dog being quite fond of you."

Patting the married couple on their respective backs, Kihara Kagun broke the embrace. Gently, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He almost seemed to suddenly become awkward, especially in his posture, which began to slightly sag. Though his shoulders didn't slump, Kagun had quite obviously lost the air of self-positivity that'd been flowing invisibly around his form.

For a moment, his confidence seemed to have faded. Though his head hadn't physically looked downwards toward the floor, his eyes' vision was focused on it. "Ah, yes. You're correct, Kamijou-chan; I'm… I'm not quite sure as to how I managed to forget that. I suppose when one's mind is occupied by other matters, one's memories, no matter how fond are thrown to the wayside."

Kamijou Misaki made a bold move. Placing a hand on Kihara Kagun's shoulder, the wife of Kamijou Touma softly asked, "you are in love with her, aren't you? For the longest time, I've had the greatest feeling. You have never answered anyone truthfully, Kagun; perhaps not even yourself.

"You have a world of affection in that great, warm heart waiting to be given to someone. That someone is Maria. Kihara-san pokes fun, but even he can see it. There is no need to be ashamed of the truth. Maria is a wonderful woman, Kagun, and you are a wonderful man."

"She's right, you know; and I'm not just saying that, I swear," Touma added, chuckling lightly. "If you're feeling Maria, you should ask her if she's feeling you. If she is, get with her! You guys have known each other for a long time, and, Hell, you've got that chemistry so many people wish they had. It's not like she's "officially" one of your students anymore, right? No harm done. You're two adults, man. Nothing to feel bad about."

Kagun looked behind him once again. Kihara Gunpei seemed to remain distracted by another of the museum's displays. Looking upwards, his eyes were wide with awe as he absorbed every proverbial drop of textual information.

After softly clearing his throat, Kagun gave his answer. "You've caught me; really, it's been anything but hidden. There are several issues that would need to be addressed, first, but… there's little use in continuing to dance around the "big picture".

The voice of Kihara Kagun dropped, almost becoming a whisper. At first, he hesitated, stumbling over his words. He looked from right to left, and, after inhaling deeply, and exhaling just as deeply, Kagun spoke his peace.

"I… I am romantically interested in Kumokawa Maria. I have been, for some time. I still don't know if such a courtship would be right, or if such a courtship would even be possible… though not my first, I would like Maria to be my last, more than anything. There it is."

"Kagun," Misaki spoke, calmly, and with a comforting tone of voice, "there is nothing to be ashamed of." Kamijou Misaki removed her hand from Kagun's shoulder, before she took her husband's left hand in her right. "Love is a wonderful thing, Kagun. Don't be afraid of it. I am quite certain that Maria feels the same way that you do. How long have you both been dancing around one another? Does it not seem as absurd to you as it does to me?"

"Maria wants him! She wants him BAAAAAAD!" Kihara Gunpei exclaimed, apparently having caught wind of the conversation from afar. "This one's just chickenshit, and won't go after her. If I was in this one's shoes, I'd be thrusting into that at the first opportunity I was given. Alas, I'm forever trapped in this cycle of loneliness and suffering! I forgot my fedora, Kagun-oniichan! I'm such a FUCKING nice guy!"

Kagun glared a single dagger at the snickering Kihara Gunpei. As if he'd detected the glare aimed in his direction, Gunpei turned back; facing Kihara Kagun, Gunpei shrugged nonchalantly, as if to say "You know I'm right. What're you going to do about it?"

"I appreciate your kind and supportive words, Kamijou-chan," Kagun remarked after looking away from Gunpei, "and I'll take them to heart. As I said, there are numerous matters that would first have to be addressed, before a… well, before something like a courtship could be established. I'd also require plenty of time to think on the matter. It's… no small thing, you see."

Following some idle banter, the married couple and Kihara Kagun, along with Kihara Gunpei said their goodbyes. One final group hug, and a series of handshakes concluded their chance meeting.

As the married couple took their leave, Othinus, seated gracefully on top of Kamijou Touma's head turned back to face Kagun, and with her right hand she formed a circle. With her left, she repeatedly jammed her index finger into the curled fingers of her right, grinning like a tiny madwoman all the while.

Once the Kamijous and Othinus had left the museum, having stepped through the entranceway, and out of sight, Kihara Gunpei turned to Kihara Kagun, his eyes full of an almost predatory hunger. Kagun knew the manchild to be harmless, though the look in his eyes still sent an awkward and unfamiliar chill down Kihara Kagun's spine.

"The little girl is really cute."

"Gunpei. Don't start."

October 9th, 2014. 10:16 PM.

Floris had eventually managed to finish her drink, evidently; as Kamisato Kakeru's vision turned towards the former New Light operative, he noticed that her tall glass was empty. Floris herself leaned back in her seat, occasionally produced a soft burp. Her cheeks were bright pink, as was the tip of her nose. Floris seemed to barely be able to keep her eyes open. Awkwardly, they fluttered every so often, but never did they permanently close.

"So, uh… K-Kamisato-chan… I mean, Kamisato-san," Floris spoke up, groggily. She leaned forward, and produced yet another burp.

"What's it like where you live, huh? Or, you want to go back to talking about that one… animu? Heh, animu… it's funny, because the real word is actually 'anime'. What was that one? A Certain Enchanted Glossary, or something? Was it Glossary, or was it "Table of Contents"? I can't remember.

"Fuck, I'm tossed and tired. Could you not fuck with me? I d-don't want to be taken advantage of. It's happened before, guys are fucked up. You don't seem fucked up though. You seem like you're cool. I guess that's why I've been latching onto you. Sorry, by the way. Am I rambling? I'm pretty sure that I'm rambling. Again, s-sorry."

Kamisato Kakeru's Moose Knight Lager had some time ago been finished. Laying on its side against the surface of the table, it sat abandoned, and partially forgotten. Placing his hand comfortingly upon the shoulder of Floris, he offered her a warm and friendly smile.

"Breathe, Floris-san. I'm not going to hurt you. It's a shame that others have, but I'm not others; I'm me, and I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. I'd never planned to; why would I? I'd literally have no reason to do so. Speaking of which, does the overuse of the word "literally" annoy you as much as it annoys me? It annoys me plenty. "Literally" should only be used when speaking literally, I think."

An intoxicated Floris had listened, patiently, as Kakeru began, and then quickly concluded his short-lived rant. Once he'd stopped speaking, she forcibly turned his face towards her own, either of the palms of her hands pressing forcibly against Kakeru's cheeks.

Mere inches away from his face, their lips only a fraction of an inch apart, Floris muttered "I'll figuratively bone you right here if you keep talking. You have the h-hottest voice, you know that? Just read entries from an encyclopedia to me while I suck you off.

"What's your place like? I want you to take me home; to your home. T-take me home and… just t-take care of me for a bit. It's not always fun being like this. I want to be t-taken care of."

Kakeru raised an eyebrow. Floris had quickly taken charge, and had climbed atop him. Sitting herself in her date's lap, she tossed her head to the side, causing her blonde hair to sway from left to right. Her hair's fringe was tossed about.

"Take care of you, Floris-san? What exactly do you have in mind? In truth, my living conditions might unnerve or otherwise disturb you, especially in your intoxicated state. I live with many people. Many women, all of whom are my equals in all ways. No one serves anyone else, unless they desire to. Still, these conditions are considered… taboo, by some, even with our equality considered."

Floris pecked Kakeru on the lips. Once, twice, then a third time. Her blush only deepened, turning from bright pink to dark red. "Yes, t-take c-care of… me. Hug me, talk to me, j-just treat me r-right. Not like other g… g-guys. I s-sound really fucking needy, don't I? Fuck, this is e-embarrassing.

"I'm n-not usually like this. I'm such a lightweight… and you, you make these things come out of me, all this weird stuff, these feelings. You always have… even if you do some fucked up shit, even if you're headstrong and don't think before you act, even if you can really, really, REALLY piss me off, some days… I'm so happy right now. I'm always happy when I'm around you."

Kamisato Kakeru found himself playing outside the rules of his own game. "One step at a time, Floris-san. Easy. If you'd like to spend the night, you need only ask; but I won't do anything physical with you. I absolutely refuse. You're intoxicated, and you can't properly give consent to do engage in sexually explicit activities."

"Are you even real?"

The question was blunt, and simple. Floris looked deeply into Kakeru's eyes. Her big, blue irises and the pupils within were completely focused on him. She ran her fingers over either of Kakeru's cheeks, shuddering in pleasure as she did so. "You're not just saying that, are you? I-I've… I've heard it before, you know.

"I don't w-want to drag my b-baggage along, I really don't… but… there's some fucked up history here. Not here as in here but… fuck it, I… I guess I thought that I'd never get this far; now that I'm h-here… I'm kind of scared. It's worse because of how strong everyone knows I am, we are… we were; New Light, that is. They think strong people can't h-hurt, like everyone else, but we can. L-Lessar is living proof."

Kakeru suddenly raised his right hand, palm facing towards Floris. After softly clearing his throat, he stated, firmly and with the utmost confidence, "I, Kamisato Kakeru solemnly swear not to harm you, in any way. Should I do so, my very life will be forfeit."

"That's a little extreme," Floris remarked. "It's hard, you know? After you've been f-fucked over a bunch of times, it's hard to trust people."

"Floris-san? What happened to you?"

That was a question that Floris didn't want to answer. She inhaled, deeply, and exhaled with caution. "It's not all that big of a deal. I'm just s-salty. I was l-lied to, and c-cheated more than once. It's been hard to… t-trust guys since then. It sucks. I want to trust you, but it's not easy. I think I can, though. I think you're alright… I mean, I could be totally wrong, and I could get fucked all over again; but w… w-what's life without c-chances, right?"

"Take some time to think about the matter, Floris-san," Kakeru suggested. She'd hardly moved anywhere from him; still she remained sitting in his lap. Her powerful, musclebound arms had wrapped themselves around either of Kakeru's shoulders. Between her fingers she twirled individual strands of his hair, some of which was sprouting from the back of his head, and some of which was close to his head's crown.

"I could always return you to your own temporary lodgings, if you're not comfortable with taking public transportation. It's entirely up to you."

For a split second, Floris looked at Kamisato Kakeru like he was completely insane; but soon enough, her facial expression returned to one of relative contentedness. "No way am I bussing, not like this. I probably can't even stand up right now. Do you have any idea how much of a challenge it was to get myself like this? My legs feel like jelly. What was the percentage of alcohol in that drink, anyways? M-must've been a…"

Without warning, Floris went in for round two. Her lips were suddenly pressed against Kakeru's own. In went her tongue, slithering and slapping against her date's own. Floris' face began to glow bright red as she, in an intoxicated flurry pushed her date over, against the surface of their booth's seat. Violently, Floris began to grind her body against Kakeru's own. Struggling to hold back ecstatic moans she pushed back when Kakeru pushed against her.

"Floris-san," Kakeru quickly remarked, managing to pull his face away from Floris's own, "this isn't the time… or the place. People are going to be looking."

The former New Light operative seemed to drift back, awkwardly into the real world from whence she'd came. Quickly rising, Floris crossed her right leg over her left and sat upright, with her back straightened and her hands clasped in her lap. Nervously, she bounced her right foot up and down.

Kakeru hadn't been correct. Winner's was almost entirely empty; the only patrons that remained were even more intoxicated than Floris, and were laughing, loudly and obnoxiously at something neither Floris nor Kakeru were aware of. They seemed to be laughing amongst themselves, rather than laughing at the two.

Kakeru's first instinct was to assume that he and his date were the subject of the groups' laughter. He even found himself grinning, awkwardly; it wasn't every day that something like what'd just happened could be seen so commonly, even in a seedy bar within the walls of an amusement park.

"Sorry," Floris muttered. "I'm sorry Kamisato-san. I… I d-don't know what happened. I w-wanted you. I s-still do."

"All's well," Kamisato Kakeru replied, calmly; he hardly looked like a man who'd just been completely overtaken, and then repeatedly kissed by an extremely attractive woman. Though his manhood stood erect, and at attention, Kakeru did his best to hide the bulge from sight by pulling his uniform's shirt over it. "I don't think this is a place for you, in your intoxicated state, however. I think this is something you need to sleep off."

"I live alone. I don't want to be alone yet… c-can I stay w-with you, Kamisato-san? Just for the n-night. I can crash in my uniform or something. Maybe I could bum a shower?"

Kamisato Kakeru's answer was produced before he even fully processed it. "Of course, Floris-san. My… fellows will be delighted to meet a new face." It was involuntary, a choice of words based more on instincts than of personal desire, or even of personal choice.

"I D-DON'T MEAN TO IMPOSE!" Floris almost shouted. That certainly got the attention of the other bargoers, for a short few seconds. The young man, Russ, looked up from within the kitchen, before he shook his head, muttering to himself as he continued to perform his menial duties. "It's… y-you know, this is the slowest I've ever m-moved with a guy before. Maybe I was the problem. Okay, w-well, if that's the case, I'm c-changing right now. Nice and slow. W-we can definitely just… be chill, right?"

Kamisato Kakeru nodded, yes.

"W-well, um, I'm ready whenever you are. To pack up that is. No pressure! I'm not b-being too pushy, am I? I don't want to come off like that. Fuck I'm a mess."

Taking Floris's left hand in his right, he stepped out from the booth's seat, and stood protectively before it. Tilting his head to the side, Kakeru curiously raised an eyebrow, and produced a soft "hmm".

"Can you walk, Floris-san? If you'll give me your other hand, I can act as a support in case you stumble."

"I don't know," Floris admitted. There was that blush again; brighter than ever before, it was glowing bright pink across either of her cheeks. The tip of her nose, too had been afflicted. She offered Kakeru her free hand. Swiftly, and gently he took it into his own.

Carefully, Floris edged her way to the end of their booth's seat, wiggling herself from side to side, and using her legs to achieve limited locomotion.

"Slow, now," Kakeru remarked in a soft, almost fatherly tone of voice. The tone alone sent shivers up Floris's spine, as the urge to kiss his face off returned with a raging vengeance. "I've got you, Floris-san. I won't allow you to fall."

"This is so goddamn embarrassing, you know that? L-Lessar would have a field day if she found out about this," Floris whispered.

The former New Light operative carefully inched her way out of the seat, and, one foot after the other, found herself standing upright, the soles of her shoes planted with a firmness that surprised her against the floor. Kakeru released either of Floris's hands, before he stepped back some few feet.

He'd taken the lead. Turning his back to her, Kakeru began to slowly and almost cautiously walk away from the booth. With equally cautious steps, Floris followed behind.

Her vision occasionally became watery, and, more than once, her head randomly throbbed in rapid succession, before the pain faded, only to eventually return and continue the cycle.

"How are you feeling? Alright, I hope, all matters considered," Kakeru softly inquired. Having noticed that she was lagging behind, Kakeru slowed his footfalls considerably, and fell back to Floris's side. "Unfortunately, alcohol consumption often leads to the irritation of stomach lining."

"You're a regular walking encyclopedia," Floris joked. "I've got a bit of a headache… it's not constant, it comes and goes. That's really all there is to it; I think I just need to lay down for a while. L-look at me. This is a p-pathetic sight."

Something had caught Kakeru's eye; apparently, in her intoxicated state, Floris hadn't managed to capture the sight in her vision. The young-seeming man, apparently named Russ had emerged, and stood behind the counter.

With his right hand, he held the air, the outstretched palm of his hand hanging above his crotch; with his left, he repeatedly slapped the same mass of air, making all sorts of faces that Kamisato Kakeru had to admit were just a bit humorous. Russ stretched his lips, smiled madly, and then opened his mouth, as if in a state of shock, nodding his head repeatedly and mouthing the words "oh, yeah!"

Before Kakeru turned away, holding back laughter, Russ mouthed the words "fuck her!" Kakeru simply shook his head. Russ responded by shaking his own head disapprovingly, and lumbering into the back room behind the counter, returning from whence he'd came.

After a number of cautious, careful steps, the duo found themselves passing by the ever-classic cowboy statue; the rear end of it, at least. Kakeru shuddered at the sight of the thing, and tried to keep his eyes' vision as far away from it as he could.

"If Billy the Kid comes to life," Kakeru remarked, "I'll be sending him to a New World. No arguments."

"If "Billy the Kid" comes to life I'll eat my own panties," Floris spoke. She chuckled, softly, before she suddenly gasped. "O-oh my G-God. Where did that come from? I d-don't wear edible undergarments; I swear to God I don't."

"I believe you," Kakeru said. His mind had given in long before his body had; he released a chuckle of his own. "I'm not laughing at you, Floris-san. I'm laughing with you. That was an amusing thing to say."

Reaching out, Kakeru held open the first door, the inner door of the lobby, and then the second, the outer door of the lobby, indicating with repeated nods that Floris was to pass through before him.

Both young man and young woman stepped out into the open, leaving Winner's behind. The outer door, leading into the lobby closed shut by itself, after Kakeru had left it to its own devices. The breeze was cool, repeatedly pecking both of their faces with its soft, invisible lips.

Though the sky above had clouded over, blocking the duo's view of the stars, there was hardly anything to be seen; the night's darkness had fallen over the little island in the Far East like a blanket. Most songbirds had taken to their nests for the night, and, as such they didn't sing; the ravens who called "the Grand Kingdom" home had their own agendas, and worked when most slept.

"Where are we going to have to head? Are you… y-you don't mind me coming along, right?"

"No, Floris-san. I don't. You don't want to be alone on this night, and that's perfectly understandable. It's a normal desire to move closer to other people; it's something inherently human. This day has been a… different one, one which has given me far too much to think about. That aside, I see no harm in it. I don't mind your presence."

Floris inhaled deeply, and then exhaled for a while before she attempted to speak again. "Where are you, uh, you know, parked, Kamisato-san? In the front?"

In response, Kakeru shook his head. "No; there's a parking space just outside of this… Den of Debauchery. There might be more parking spaces behind each, or perhaps the parking space is unique to this section of the Den. A few minutes' walk.

"Fifteen minutes, maybe, at the absolute maximum. Though at our current rate of movement, it could take a short while longer. I suppose that isn't a problem. Take your time, Floris-san."

Floris smiled warmly, more to herself than anyone else. For some time, the duo walked quietly down the mostly-deserted streets of the Den of Debauchery.

Passersby, some intoxicated, some not would occasionally pass them by, but gave the two no trouble. The passersby seemed to be completely absorbed into their own respective worlds, too much to even bother paying a moment's worth of attention to Kamisato Kakeru and Floris.

Eventually, it was Kakeru who broke the ice that'd formed. "Floris-san, might I ask a question?"

"Shoot," Floris said, her voice nonchalant, as if she didn't have even a single care in the world. She'd turned to look at the man who was her date, somehow, despite all the odds that she'd felt had been stacked against her.

Maybe they'd all just been in her own head, imaginary blockades that she'd set up to see herself fail, for whatever reason armchair psychiatrist Floris could pull out from within her proverbial sphincter. Intoxicated Floris wasn't having any of it, and the latter immediately shut the former down.

"Are you nervous? You spoke earlier regarding your previous forays into the realm of romance. Evidently, they hadn't gone according to plan. I do hope that you're telling me the truth, and that you weren't subjected to anything… unwanted. That would be a true, and disgusting shame."

"No, God no," Floris spoke, confidently. "Nothing like… that. You're talking about, you know, sexual assault, right? No, nothing of the sort. Just guys being jerks, bailing on dates, borrowing money and never paying it back, lying about who they are and what they're about.

"I m-mean… I had this one fling, where the guy turned out to be a gigantic asshole, and we… well, you know; but I consented to that. Tricked or not, I gave it the green light. Heh… the sex was alright, at least. He talked big, but he couldn't back it up. Kind of wish I didn't do it, though. It makes me feel like I'm a loose woman or something."

Floris awkwardly cleared her throat. "L-look at me. You didn't ask to be vented to; s-sorry, Kamisato-san. That just… came out? I feel better, though. D-don't really know why I told you. I guess you know a secret of mine now."

Kakeru stepped a bit closer to Floris, mid-stride. "It'll remain a secret. This I vow. My condolences. Casual sexual encounters aren't quite enough on their own to make someone "loose", not by my standards at least. Some of the less tolerant among us like to forget that sexual activity is as natural to our species as drinking water, and consuming nutrient-rich foodstuffs."

Floris felt a grin tugging at either side of her face; Kakeru's words had brought warm, tingling positivity into her life once again. Without her permission, her lips curled upwards into a thin smile. "That's one way of looking at the issue, Kamisato-san. I like the way you talk with big words; it's really cute."

Kamisato Kakeru nodded respectfully, before rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. "Many thanks, Floris-san. You know something? You're cool. We should see one another more often."

"C-cool?"

To say that Floris was ecstatic would be an understatement. Kamisato Kakeru had evidently closed a considerable difference between himself and the former New Light operative, as he was almost directly next to her. Floris slipped her hand into the palm of Kakeru's own. He accepted Floris's affectionate gesture, and as a comfortable silence descended, the two continued on their way.


	19. The Kamisato Faction I

For a considerable length of time, the evening walk shared by Kamisato Kakeru and the former New Light operative Floris was uneventful. Few words were spoken, and conversations which did crop up from time to time were short-lived, soon fading into obscurity after some few sentences were spoken. This fading hardly lead to discomfort. Both parties were fine with the descended silence.

This comfortable silence, and the peace of mind that came along with it were both shattered, like a pane of glass that had a great stone thrown into its surface. From the long, great window of a nearby structure, not one, not two, not three, but a total of six male individuals soared. Their collective journeys were only brought to a halt once their forms had crashed into the brick wall of an adjacent structure. The multicolored neon sign above the structure subjected to the physical abuse shook quite violently, before it eventually settled back into place.

Even while she was intoxicated, Floris tried her best to ready herself, and step into a fighting stance; but she only succeeded in awkwardly stumbling to one side. Kakeru raised his right hand, and cracked his neck, prepared for conflict.

Floris looked to her date, and offered him an offended facial expression. "Uhhh? What did we just tlak… I mean, talk about, Kamisato-chan? You're so thick. Am I going to have to drill this into your head? You can't just go around using that… thing, on people."

"I'll do what's necessary," Kakeru remarked, cryptically, "no matter how regrettable."

The individual who leapt from the window's frame, its glass completely shattered, neither Kamisato Kakeru nor Floris could've expected. He looked almost effeminate, and quite thin for someone of his height. He was dressed rather strangely, with extremely long, golden hair. Once his feet touched down upon the cobbled walkway, he was off; like a blur, he became more of a mess of colors than an actual human being.

Before the writhing forms of the six individuals who'd soared through the recently damaged window's frame he came to a grinding halt; from beneath the heels of his chocolate-colored work boots, sparks had flown.

The broken-looking individuals themselves were identifiable as members of some sort of clique, or perhaps a gang; though, they didn't quite look to be the part to be members of a gang. Their outfits, consisting of leather jackets, baggy, dark-colored denim legwear and tuques of various styles and colors didn't quite fit the bill; Skill Out-related gangbangers dressed far less conspicuously. Both Kamisato Kakeru and Floris knew plenty about the goings-on in Academy City's gang-related subculture.

"You all lack experience points! Cendri-chan isn't the kind of girl who's going to allow that sort of thing! Did you not feel the aura?! It was dark! Even someone without even a single experience point should've been able to feel THAT!" Following his speech, the oddly young, and effeminate-looking man placed his hands upon his hips. He produced a long, drawn-out sigh, and then proceeded to become quite complacent-looking; his shoulders slouched, and either of his arms' hands hung limply at his sides, as his arms buckled beneath their own weight.

"I'm not going to be able to help you much. Even with my own great experience, I'm high as a kite. I truly am pathetic. I don't think I should help you, anyways; what each and every one of you did, even those of you who only watched on are truly pathetic. Actually, you're quite lucky that I'm in a pleasant mood, or I'd kill you all myself. So tired…"

At this point, both Kamisato Kakeru and Floris had been overtaken by morbid curiosity. They'd stopped in the middle of the mostly-vacant walkway, and were awkwardly gawking at the scene that was playing out before them. Occasionally, the two would look to one another before they would look back to the unfolding scene. Neither knew what exactly there was to say.

"W…what is she, even?! She's tough as shit! Tough as fuckin' nails!" One of the broken individuals inquired, aggressively. "Just get her off my boys and I! We didn't mean nothin' by it, man!"

The oddly-dressed, vaguely feminine-looking individual sat down, crossing his legs beneath him and folded his arms across his chest. A few feet away from the broken male individuals, he produced another sigh. The whites of his eyes were quite clearly bloodshot; Kamisato Kakeru had a suspicion as to what the culprit of this mutation was.

Neither Kakeru nor Floris had the time to continue to observe that occurrence's happening, however. From around the corner of the structure, coming from some location neither Kakeru nor Floris knew the origin or exact placing of, a woman who both parties had to internally admit was stunning emerged. Her jewel-encrusted heels clacked against the walkway as she cracked her knuckles, a vein throbbing in her forehead, her right eyebrow repeatedly twitching. Her lips were curled downwards, her eyelids wide, the eyes within their sockets wild.

"Thor, don't even think about laying a hand upon them; don't you dare even think about trying to protect them either. They're mine. To the side with you, unless you'd like to be trampled."

"I'm not into that! Come on, Cendri-chan," the individual apparently known as "Thor" spoke, exasperated. "It's good that you're continuing to gain experience points, but you nearly killed these goofballs! They're harmless, anyways! Look at this one! He's sorry! Tell her you're sorry!" This individual, "Thor", barely sounded like he meant the words that'd spoken, especially when he described the broken men as being "harmless". He sounded more like he was trying to reason with some monster.

The apparent leader of this group of ragtag nobodies, with strands of orange-colored hair protruding from beneath his tuque rolled onto his back, and struggled to rise. "L-lady, w-we're sorry! We d-didn't mean nothing by it! Nothing at all! I sure as fuck didn't mean nothing by it, goddamn!"

The beautiful woman, apparently known as "Cendri-chan" didn't stop walking towards them. Rather, she picked up her pace. Though the effeminate man known as "Thor" had risen, and was trying to awkwardly waddle towards the woman, "Cendri-chan" wasn't intimidated.

"No?" She inquired, skeptically. "I see. So, you can sexually harass a woman freely, grope her and whisper filthy words into her ear, and then, when she retaliates, as per her right, her aggressors can simply say that they "meant nothing by it"? I was not aware that this was how these matters worked."

"Cendri-chan…" the individual known as Thor muttered, nervously. He tried to obstruct her, and get in the way of her path, but this "Cendri-chan" was having none of it.

She barged past the one called Thor, knocking him out of the way; he responded to this aggression by sitting down and yawning, shrugging his shoulders, as if to say "I tried."

It was then that Kamisato Kakeru snapped out of his trance-like state, and proceeded to walk towards the scene, his right hand falling back to his side. Though Floris couldn't have known it, her words were floating throughout the caverns of his higher mind. Floris herself was right behind her date, though, she still wasn't completely certain as to what exactly was unfolding before her.

"It appears that there may be a misunderstanding here," Kakeru stated calmly, his voice firm, but understanding. Floris suddenly felt like she wanted to jump his bones even more than before. She wanted Kamisato Kakeru to speak to her in that tone of voice as he was thrusting into her.

Then, shame was known to the former New Light operative; this was hardly the time for such thoughts to be flowing throughout her mind. She needed to focus, and keep on her toes, just in case she became a target. Floris would be damned if she didn't go down without a fight.

The golden-haired beauty's head craned in the speaker's direction. Kakeru looked into her eyes, and raised an eyebrow in her direction. Both he and Floris continued walking forwards, the former prepared to jump into the fray if necessary.

One of the broken male individuals had nearly risen from the ground, his arms shuddering as he struggled to lift his aching form; beneath the domineering force of the woman known as "Cendri-chan", he was pushed back to the ground, like the smallest of insects crushed beneath the boot of an oblivious passerby. He gritted his teeth, and growled like an animal caught in a trap, her jewel-encrusted heel digging viciously into the young-seeming man's back. One, twice, and then a third time, "Cendri-chan" viciously stomped upon him, digging her heel deeper and deeper, cutting flesh, and, beneath his jacket, causing crimson lifeblood to flow freely.

At this point, the one known as Thor had laid himself out on the ground, and appeared to have drifted into slumber; his eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell, rhythmically.

"Misunderstanding? No, there's no misunderstanding here," "Cendri-chan" spoke, with a shake of her head. "These… primates, lead by this… this pig in human clothing," the stunning woman motioned towards the group's apparent head honcho, who'd managed to pick himself up from the ground, "came from behind and groped me. Without so much as a word of my permission, they were upon me, as if I was some… piece, available for public use. There were no misunderstands here. I will show these pigs in human clothing the errors of their way."

Kamisato Kakeru looked to the group's head honcho. His legs vibrated, and World Rejector's wielder could very easily tell that the brutish male was in shock, to some extent. Kakeru could hardly blame him; if he'd been thrown through a window, and sent crashing into the outer, brick wall of another structure, he, too would've been in shock.

"Is this true?"

"It wasn't like that, fuck me, man, it wasn't fucking like that!" the male remarked. "Most girls are into that. Freaky, right? Into being fondled and all that shit, we didn't mean no harm by it."

Kakeru breathed a sigh of irritation. Since turning World Rejector against this gorilla was apparently out of the question, World Rejector's wielder began to postulate. "You do realize how disgusting that sounds, no? Surely this is some sort of front. Who are you trying to impress? You're not impressing this individual, by any means; it would appear that your front has failed.

"Every person, male or female has their own comfort zone. You speak of "girls" as if they are mere brood animals, like cattle to be milked."

The group's apparent head honcho seemed to become just as exasperated as Kakeru was. Slouching forward, the gruff, well-muscled man began to massage his temples with the index and middle fingers of his hands. "Greeeeat. We get the preachy one. You're like one of those protagonists straight out of a fuckin' harem manga. Not that I'm a goddamn weeb or anything…"

Floris found herself awkwardly giggling at the remark. When all eyes, even the eyes of those who were struggling to push their broken forms from the ground fell upon her, Floris fell quiet, and then softly cleared her throat.

The one known as "Cendri-chan" had just about enough; not only of these pigs' presence, but of the bickering unfolding between their apparent leader, and the mysterious, but surprisingly handsome stranger as well. The former had closed the distance between the latter, and it seemed that a brawl would break out if she refused, or even tarried in intervening.

Under her breath, Cendrillon softly, but quickly began to chant, loud enough only for her own ears to hear. Her right hand's palm was extended outwards, in the pig-leader's direction. "Old lady of the pumpkin carriage, please send the carriage quickly. Send it before I wake, before I wake from this one-night dream. Please send the pumpkin carriage."

Struck, and practically mowed down by an invisible, forceful push, the group's apparent leader was swiftly, and efferently removed from the ground. Like some ripe vegetable plucked by the hand of a farmer, the air was torn from within his lungs, and, from his open mouth, his nose, and from the corners of his eyes, crimson lifeblood dripped.

"He will live. Probably," "Cendri-chan" spoke. She turned away from a nonchalant Kamisato Kakeru, and a shocked-looking Floris. The stunning, and apparently extremely capable woman looked to the pig-leader's compatriots, who were stumbling backwards, their eyes wide.

Softly, the stunning woman whispered, "old lady of the pumpkin carriage, please send the carriage quickly. Send it before I wake, before I wake from this one-night dream. Please send the pumpkin carriage." In an instant, her left hand's open palm was thrust towards the pigs.

Like bowling pins, they were tossed away; some into the air, others crashing, and rolling against the cobbled walkway, as an invisible force crashed against them, and broke them further.

Kakeru clapped. Slowly, and methodically he clapped his hands' palms together. With her arms crossed beneath her bosom, Floris eyed the stunning, princess-like woman.

The princess-like woman tossed her head back, as if to challenge the Bearer of the World Rejector, and the former New Light operative. "Cendri-chan" bent downwards, and scooped up the slumbering form of her companion. Placing him over her shoulder, she, without so much as another word began to casually take her leave, heels clicking against the surface of the cobbled walkway.

"Cendri-chan… did you kill 'em? I'm… munchies. Does… the hotel have… chips?"

"No, Thor. I don't know. We can get some."

"Kamisato-san," Floris spoke, "someone's ought to have called Anti-Skill by this point. We… should probably split."

"Mhm," Kakeru responded. "A moment, however. There's something I'd like to do before we depart. I think, despite their dark intentions, these individuals deserve a second chance. Perhaps this incident will teach them a lesson in humility. Though, perhaps it won't. Still, I believe everyone deserves a second chance. I will offer them this second chance."

Floris eyed Kakeru, as he produced his phone from within the right pocket of his pants. Unlocking the device, he swiped his finger downwards along the surface of the phone's tempered glass screen. Raising his phone to his right ear, he stood, silent and patient for some few seconds.

"Hello. Greetings, how are you this evening…? Good. I'll be needing an ambulance, in the Grand Kingdom amusement park. Yes, the Den of Debauchery quarter. Do you often get called out here? … I see. That's a shame. Across from an establishment known as… "Papa Jack's Taphouse and Grill." No, a physical altercation broke out, resulting in some rather painful-looking injuries. I merely witnessed the tail end of this altercation. No worries. Have a lovely evening, now."

Kamisato Kakeru ended the call, and proceeded to pocket his phone. Turning his attention to Floris, he offered the former New Light operative his right hand. Into her left she took her date's hand, as she returned to Kakeru's side.

"Are you feeling fit enough to run, Floris-san? I'd prefer it if we ran. At this rate, we'll be having more than one emergency service moving in our location. Even if we had nothing to do with this conflict, our status as witnesses to the altercation would be enough to inconvenience the both of us."

"I'd probably fall," Floris admitted. "Piggyback, Good Samaritan?"

With a shrug, Kakeru leaned forward, and patted his back with his right hand. Lacking any sort of hesitation, the intoxicated Floris clambered onto her date's back, wrapping her arms around his upper torso as best as she could. Around his lower torso, her legs were wrapped. Kakeru rose, and curled either of his arms around his date's legs; if she was to suddenly lose grip and fall back, Kakeru would act as a second line of defense.

As fast as he could manage to, Kamisato Kakeru bolted directly to the north, with Floris upon his back like a monkey, leaving behind the writhing, broken individuals. Only once all had become clear did patrons of the structure from which both "Thor" and "Cendri-chan" had emerged pop their heads out from the structure's windows, gawking, pointing and laughing loudly at the sight before them, glasses of alcohol and joints of marijuana in their collective hands. The structure housed a rather cost-effective, but equally seedy casino.

Kamisato Kakeru hadn't been able to run quickly; he'd barely been able to run at all. Floris was hardly a large woman, nor could she even be considered to be someone who was "large"; rather, it was the fact that her form was well-muscled that lead to Kakeru's back becoming strained. Floris was heavy, not large. That would be his excuse, should the topic emerge in conversation, at least.

For some blocks, Kakeru kept going, pushing his body, and mentally whipping himself. He wouldn't allow himself to be weak, like he'd been in the past. He wouldn't whine and moan like he'd done back then. Kakeru would push himself until he could push no more, and even then he would defy the odds and keep going.

Kamisato Kakeru made a right turn, and then continued moving down the walkway he'd turned down, before a left turned needed to be made. The Bearer of the World Rejector, with his monkey upon his back passed by a group of intoxicated youths who, at the sight suddenly broke down laughing. Kamisato Kakeru ignored them, and continued to push himself.

"Kamisato-chan? I think we're far enough away. Y-you could p-probably let me down. P-people are going to make a scene, you know how k-kids are."

He breathed a sigh of relief, as he came to a grinding halt. Kakeru's calves screamed for release, as did his lower torso, which was being tightly constricted by Floris's powerful legs. Floris dropped down from her date's back, awkwardly stumbling once her feet touched the ground. She'd just barely managed to keep herself from falling. Grabbing onto Kakeru's shoulder, Floris heard the soles of her shoes squeak, as they roughly scraped against the cobbled walkway.

"Parking spaces are some few blocks away… about four," Kakeru remarked. He stood upon his toes and stretched his arms towards the sky; his bones cracked, and his muscles flexed, crying out in joy and relief. Kamisato Kakeru eventually set himself back into a neutral standing position, and shifted his body's weight from one leg to the other.

Floris took it upon herself to slip her right hand into Kamisato Kakeru's left. She smiled to herself as their palms connected.

"This has been one… insane night," Floris remarked. "I don't really have any other word to describe it. Insanity! Both good and bad! It's been a pretty mixed bag, but… coming on the end, here, the night was really, really nice. I've enjoyed myself with you so much, Kamisato-san. T-thank you."

She began to walk forwards, her form bathed in the flashing neon light produced by a sign, mounted upon the roof of a structure adjacent to the duo. The sign looked to depict the form a faceless, mostly featureless woman, her form laid out in an alluring pose across the structure's roof. A pair of bunny ears protruded from the light fixture woman's featureless, empty head, and Kamisato Kakeru's thoughts turned to a certain young woman, one of his many lovers in his household, who was waiting for him to arrive home. For a moment, he wondered just what she, and the other women who called him their lover were up to.

Floris looked to her date, and awkwardly grinned, her eyelids closing shut as the two continued on their way. "It almost reminds me of this one night… back when New Light was, you know, a thing."

Kakeru produced a soft, curious "hm". Floris took this as audible permission to continue with the anecdote she'd intended to deliver onto her date.

"Oh, Kamisato-san… it was insane. Lessar, Bayloupe, Lancis and I, we all went to this club one night. In hindsight bringing Lessar to a club wasn't the best idea, but, what can I say? This was some six years ago, so… we were all still young and stupid. At least I can say that, from the start, Bayloupe thought it was a terrible idea.

"Anyways, I wish you could've been there, you would've been dying. Lessar's obviously doing her thing, having like, eight guys grind against her and she's obviously loving it. Lancis is over in a corner trying not to be noticed, and Bayloupe… it was the funniest thing. Bayloupe was just turning guys down left and right at the bar. She'd take the drinks they'd buy her, but she wouldn't dance with them. They were obviously so mad, but Bayloupe has this air about her. S-she doesn't fuck around."

Kamisato Kakeru produced a soft chuckle, and looked to his date, who had opened her eyes, and was looking at him. Oddly, Kakeru found himself almost being hypnotized by Floris. The longer he looked into her big, blue eyes, the stranger his feelings became. Her nose was small, but not too small, just small enough to be adorable to look at. Floris's lips were full, and so absolutely kissable.

The Bearer of the World Rejector felt an unusual shiver run down his spine, as his lower torso began to awkwardly tingle. The longer he looked at this young woman, the more he wanted to push her against a wall and thrust into her until he came; but that wasn't possible. She was intoxicated, and Kakeru believed in his heart of hearts that doing so would make him no better than the broken individuals he and his date had left behind.

"K-Kamisato-san?" Floris inquired, awkwardly. "Are you a-alright? You're staring."

"Uh huh," Kakeru murmured. "I'm good, Floris-san. Tired, is all; I allowed my conscious mind to drift away from me for a moment. Sincerest apologies."

Kakeru made a left turn, down a considerably more populated walkway. Crowds had gathered in the walkway, as they moved towards Kakeru and Floris, passing them by, some paying the duo a series of glances, others seemingly not acknowledging their respective existences. Bathed in many different colors and shades of neon lights, some flashing, some solid, the duo pushed through the crowds, as if they were attempting to swim upstream, against a mighty current. Hand in hand, Floris followed. For a considerable amount of time, a comfortable silence descended between the duo as they walked, before Kakeru broke it.

"I have an entertaining anecdote to share as well, if you'd hear it," Kakeru spoke. "It is, however, a bit… raunchier in nature. It'd be wiser to wait until we reach the privacy of my vehicle to speak about it."

Floris responded to this statement by tilting her head to one side, curiousness in her mind and butterflies fluttering within her stomach.

Beneath a great, ornate archway the duo passed; high above their heads, the archway's existence brought an end to the cobbled walkway. Once the duo had passed beneath the archway, successfully managing to dodge groups of overexcited youths, and rampaging groups of even more excitable folks older than the duo themselves, the cobbled walkway turned to asphalt; they'd stepped into a great, fenced in parking space. One of many outside "the Grand Kingdom's" walls, in fact.

Illuminated by tall streetlamps, identical to those found in Academy City proper, the parking space was an overcrowded mess. Nearly each and every individual parking spot had been overtaken by vehicles of all makes, shapes and sizes. Along the sides of the fences that separated this particular parking space from Academy City proper, bicycles, electric bicycles and motorized bicycles were locked.

Kamisato Kakeru looked from his left, and then to his right. Though Floris didn't necessarily know what type or make of vehicle she was looking for, she did the same, as the two traversed the parking space, small pebbles and discarded natural waste material crunching beneath their feet.

"The vehicle I'm driving shouldn't be hard to miss," Kakeru spoke. He sounded distracted, continuing to look from left to right as his words emerged from between his lips. "My own vehicle is in for repairs, after one of my…. partners attempted to use it to attract unidentified flying objects. Supermagnets wreak havoc upon the internals of vehicles, apparently. In return, I'm currently using hers. Maybe you'd like to help me? If so, look for a van, with several satellite dishes mounted atop it."

The former New Light operative proceeded to do just that. Though the description was vague at best, Floris visualized such a sight in her mind, and attempted to find something similar in the world outside of her mind's eye.

Row after row of parked vehicles the duo passed by, but no vehicle among any in these rows matched the description Kakeru had provided. Vans were indeed present, among various other types of vehicles, but no van adorned in such a way was present.

Some four rows they passed, following the previous five, before a strangely-decorated, pink-colored van appeared in Floris's vision. Squished in between two smaller four-door vehicles, both of which were darker in coloration than the van itself, Kakeru's temporary means of transportation stuck out like a sore thumb. Larger than most vans, numerous pink-colored satellite dishes were indeed attached to its roof.

As the two approached, Floris noticed that, on the right side of the vehicle, a large sticker had been placed, depicting the word "ABDUCTION!" Floris could've potentially taken the word, and the nature of the vehicle itself out of context, if there hadn't been a decal depicting a stereotypical flying saucer on either side of the word.

"Forgive the… state of this vehicle," Kakeru casually remarked. "One of my partners uses this vehicle of hers to track unidentified flying objects, something she's quite passionate about."

"I can tell," Floris giggled. In her intoxicated state, her mind's eye could imagine a nondescript girl sitting in the back of the van, its doors open, with a telescope raised to her eye.

Kamisato Kakeru had broken away from his date, and had walked to the left side of the vehicle. Squeezing himself between his borrowed mode of transportation and the dark-colored four-door, which had been parked far too closely to his own temporary vehicle for Kakeru's liking, he reached into his pocket, and produced a set of keys. Unlocking the left door, he opened it as best as he could, and stepped out of the small space that was present between the two vehicles.

"After you," Kakeru said. "It could be a fair amount of time until we not only escape this crowded lot, but, there will be a fair distance between this district and thirteen, our destination. There's a functioning living space in the van's rear, though it lacks restroom facilities. Feel free to drop into the bed, if you'd like. The air mattress is quite comfortable; I can speak from experience. This vehicle's owner rigorously performs cleaning duties on a daily basis, apparently of her own accord. She may have some type of compulsion, but I suppose that's none of my business. Regardless, its sheets are cleanly to the point of absurdity."

She didn't know it, but she was blushing. Floris's face had erupted into an enormous, pink-colored blush. Floris could feel the heat rising into her face, but, in the moment she didn't associate the sensation with the unconscious act of blushing. Both her cheeks and nose had been completely consumed, as blood rushed to her face without her permission. "T-thanks, K-Kamisato-chan. I might do that, actually… this headache is getting to me. I m-mean, it's tolerable, don't worry! It's just… a-annoying, that's all. Eheheh."

Floris squeezed herself between the vehicle temporarily in Kamisato Kakeru's custody, and the dark-colored vehicle. A part of her felt like hunting the driver of the vehicle opposite her down, and screaming in their face, explaining to them exactly why they were a complete imbecile. Her more reasonable, though intoxicated higher mind reminded Floris that such a thing was not only completely impossible, but completely idiotic in and of itself.

Kakeru made his way to the vehicle's left side, and climbed in, after he unlocked the right side's door. Closing it behind him, he nestled himself into the van's driver's seat. On the vehicle's right, Floris placed a foot onto the edge of the van's interior. She grasped a handle on the inner side of the opened left door, and pulled herself upwards. Instinctually, Floris closed the door behind her, listening as it clicked satisfyingly into place. World Rejector's Bearer had placed a key into the van's ignition. Once he turned it, the van's interior sprung to life.

Pink-colored light bathed both Kakeru and Floris; the interior of the van was bathed in light of the same color. It sparkled and danced, as if some invisible disco ball was hanging above their heads.

"Is the… uh, is the bed held in place by something?" Floris inquired. She felt foolish for asking, but, her own desire to find personal safety overwhelmed her own social anxieties, for a time.

Kakeru nodded. "Two belts tie the air mattress itself to the interior walls, some type of leathery material. Extremely difficult to snap. There's no need to concern yourself with crashes of my own creation, Floris-san; I drive defensively. Still, a genuine and commendable concern in and of itself. You're very mature, Floris-san, dependable and reasonable, highly intelligent as well. You're…"

He'd been denied the chance to speak even a word more. Floris, like a predator springing upon her unsuspecting prey, had forced herself into her date's lap. Her posterior had been pressed against the steering wheel; it had brushed against the large, saucer-shaped attachment which had been set over the wheel's horn. The van produced a loud, almost aggressive-sounding honk for a fraction of a second.

Floris couldn't have cared any less. Pressing her lips against Kakeru's own, she began to viciously grind her body against his own, moaning aloud all the while, as their lips smacked together. She reached downwards, towards her date's crotch, with the intention of massaging him. Floris's tongue found its way into Kakeru's mouth. Wrestling with her date's own, Floris's tongue thrashed and whipped from side to side, as she tasted him.

Her cheeks and nose were bright red, as more and more blood rushed into her face. Floris grabbed either of Kakeru's hands with her own, and placed them against her posterior. As he grabbed on, squeezing down tightly, Floris broke their kiss, and moaned aloud in ecstasy, her entire body shuddering as she did so. Both parties were lucky that the van's windows had been rolled up some time prior to their sudden encounter.

"That's s-so good!" Floris cried out, thrusting her bosom into her date's face. With her hands free to be used as she saw fit, Floris grasped onto the back of his head, wrapping that soft, perfect hair of his between her fingers. Floris felt the beginnings of tears running down either of her cheeks. Her womanhood ached and throbbed, demanding to become one with this handsome young man beneath her.

"Fuck me, fuck me fuck me fuck me FUCK ME! I c-can't hold back anymore, K-Kamisato-chan," Floris spoke through a joyous sob. "Have sex with me, please. Thrust into me until you're ready to completely lose it, and eject that nasty, pent-up stuff, I c-can't fucking last another minute with you. Can you k-kiss my boobs please? If y-you d-don't want to have… if you d-don't want to fuck me, I can grind on you while you make out with my boobs. I think that would w-work, huh?"

Kamisato Kakeru sighed, and reluctantly removed his hands from Floris's posterior. This certainly wasn't how he'd imagined his night would've gone, when he'd awoken in the morning.

"That isn't how I feel, necessarily," Kakeru spoke. He fell back on tactics, and his own inborn smarts. This young woman was plastered, very emotionally-charged, and obviously had very, very strong feelings for him. As if he was diffusing a proverbial bomb, Kakeru braced himself, and steadied his higher mind. "You're intoxicated, and you can't properly give consent to engage in sexual activities. I can't, and I won't take advantage of you in this situation. Not only that, doing so would be moving too quickly. At least, I think so."

Kakeru could hardly believe his own words; here he was, playing outside of his own game's rules again.

Floris didn't immediately respond, at least not verbally. She slumped downwards, and began kissing her date's neck, softly, and gently, with the upmost respect and adoration. Between her lips being pressed against her date's soft, warm skin, Floris murmured. "I'm sorry, I s-swear to God in Heaven that I-I'm not normally… l-like this. Y-you make me unravel like this, and I l-love it and I hate it a-at the same time. You're right, I d-don't want to move that fast. God, I-I'm sorry, Kamisato-san."

"You're fine."

Kamisato Kakeru's tone of voice was calm, comforting, almost fatherly. Around the young woman's waist his arms coiled, taking Floris into a friendly, warm, and very much welcomed embrace.

"It's okay. Allow yourself to experience this, allow yourself to feel these feelings. I promise, Floris-san, I won't hurt you. Breathe, and relax yourself. I have no reason to wish to harm you, nor would I gain anything from doing so. What you're doing in this moment is fine. You're exploring, allow it to happen. I don't mind to act as a guide. I found myself in a similar position to the one you've found yourself in for the this last while, not so long ago, you know."

Floris nuzzled him; she nuzzled him, and she nuzzled him and she didn't stop as the butterflies within her stomach bounced, and twirled and performed all sorts of acrobatics.

"D-Did you?"

Floris unconsciously found herself pulling away from Kakeru. Squeezing herself between his form and the steering wheel behind her, Floris plopped herself into the passenger seat. She strapped herself in, clicking the seat's seatbelt into its corresponding buckle. Floris looked to her lap, as the vehicle, commanded by Kakeru, began to pull out from within the parking spot it had rested in.

Nodding, Kakeru kept his attention on his driver's side rear-view mirror, occasionally looking to the small mirror a few inches away from the vehicle's front windshield. "I did."

Floris noticed that a number of small knickknacks and collectibles had been taped to the vehicle's dashboard; little alien bobble heads, and statuettes of little flying saucers.

"It was a… strange time, Floris-san," Kakeru began. Having emerged from the parking spot, Kakeru had pushed the vehicle forward, and was making a beeline towards the runway, which lead to the exit of the parking space. Other vehicles followed behind him at a brisk pace. With the push of a button, the windows of the van began to roll downwards, allowing the night's cool, refreshing air to rustle Floris's golden locks, as well as the fringe of Kakeru's own hair.

The breeze kissed Floris's cheeks, softly and lovingly, while it batted her bangs about. Her own hair's fringe wasn't doing much better than Kakeru's. The feeling of being kissed by the breeze was a funny one; Floris found herself awkwardly giggling, her eyes still moist.

"There was a time when I hardly even knew who I was, or what I was doing here, as in, on this planet, Floris-san. There was a time when I believed I was simply some "normal, everyday high school boy that could be found anywhere". Greater nonsense has only been spoken by politicians caught in lies, and by celebrities searching to protect their own images. At the very least, these individuals would have reasons for lying, however concerning.

"Of course, I see matters for what they are, with the clearest of vision in the present: I was a coward, unwilling to face up to the responsibility thrust upon me. Moaning about such responsibility as I did then accomplished very little.

"It was some time after my obtaining of this power, this responsibility, "World Rejector", that another milestone was reached, and another hurdle presented itself. With individuals of the opposite gender surrounding me, gathered by this "World Rejector", it was only a matter of until a sexual encounter came to be, excuse the double entendre."

Kakeru didn't find himself in a position to physically turn his head to look to Floris. With his vision focused entirely on the asphalt before him, Kakeru was dedicated to escaping the parking space.

He could see the grand archway, and the standard Academy City roadway just beyond; the more lightly-colored asphalt of Academy City's own roadway was a clear indication that, once he and Floris's temporary vehicle passed beneath the grand, ornate archway, they'd be free of the crowds, and of the terrible, irate drivers who circled the parking space like bloodthirsty sharks.

He spoke regardless of whether he could look to his date or not. "Are you comfortable with discussing the subject further? I assure you, the story is a humorous one. I wouldn't tell it otherwise."

Kamisato Kakeru had no way of knowing it, but Floris found herself awkwardly hanging on his every word. She was seeking information, something to record and stick away inside of her subconscious mind. Floris wanted to know exactly what this young man was into, what he liked and what he didn't like. Floris licked her lips, as thoughts of tending to his physical needs flooded her mind's eye. It also wouldn't be bad if he'd tend to hers.

"I d-don't mind," Floris remarked, giggling. "I already t-told you about my own fuckups, right? It's only f-fair for me to hear you out. I really don't mind."

Kakeru slammed the breaks, as a bright-colored sports car swiftly pulled out from within the parking spot that had contained it. Its engine roared, and its wheels squealed as the vehicle's headlights shone into the cab of he and Floris's van. Floris raised her hands to her eyes, whose lids closed tightly, and shook her head as spots danced across the darkness before her.

The World Rejector's Bearer held back a flurry of curses, and inhaled deeply. Once the opposing vehicle had cleared out of the way, Kakeru commanded the vehicle to continue onwards, his foot gently pressing against the pedal.

"Well, Floris-san, neither one of us were intoxicated, which probably made the encounter even stranger for the both of us," Kakeru elaborated.

"One of my partners, named Fran, an easily-excitable, but thoughtful and highly intelligent young woman – the owner of this vehicle in fact – and I had remained behind at our shared home, as our fellows had taken off to a viewing of a superhero film that'd been popular at the time. I believe it was one of those ensemble team-up films, what was the name…? "The Vindicators"? Something of the sort. Neither Fran nor myself had even the slightest interest in this film, to make a long story shorter.

"Of course, this had been some years after a particularly… traumatizing set of incidents, for the both of us. Of course, it would come up in conversation. Now, in a perfect world, that point would've been the point in which the narrative of our situation suddenly turned one hundred and eighty degrees on us. Animal comfort, which we'd sought from one another should've turned to passionate lovemaking, but… awkwardness ensued."

"You're killing me with this suspense," Floris spoke, her words emerging from her lips at a higher volume than she'd intended. Floris was, quite literally on the edge of her seat; as close as she could get, at least. "What happened, Kamisato-san? Did someone faint? I've watched some of those h-h… h… HAREM… anime before, and the guy always blushes and faints whenever the girls start getting all over him. NOT THAT I THINK YOU'RE FAKE OR ANYTHING!"

Kakeru produced a series of hearty chuckles. He and Floris's temporary mode of transportation finally passed beneath the archway, as the smaller, but considerably longer minivan before them finally managed to pull out onto the roadway, making a left turn.

"No offense taken, Floris-san. You know those male characters are written to behave in such a manner for a reason, right? It allows for the audience, generally young adult males to more easily project themselves onto the male lead. Sells merchandise, and such."

Pulling out into the roadway, and making a right turn, Kamisato Kakeru could increase the speed in which the vehicle travelled. Slowly, the van began to gain speed, and the light breeze quickly picked up, becoming a whipping whirlwind. It kissed the cheeks of both Kamisato Kakeru and Floris with considerable force, much more than previously.

"Oh, definitely," Floris remarked. "It's totally wish-fulfilment; trashy wish-fulfilment at that. But you were telling a story, and I was l-listening, for, um… research purposes. Please continue, Kamisato-san!"

"There's very little left to tell," Kakeru admitted with a shrug. "Fran, in an act of what we both know was love, attempted to manually stimulate me with her hands. The keyword being attempted. Well, to say that she hadn't succeeded would be a lie. I simply couldn't last. I'm man enough to admit it. I was young, naïve, the only hands exposed to that part of my body before had been my own."

Floris bit her lip, and held back a barrage of giggles that were desperately struggling to escape. Her cheeks were growing red, though, not because of blood rushing to her face; rather, she was physically fighting against herself. Floris could feel her lips curling upwards, even as she bit her lower lip, pressing down with more and more force.

"K… K-Kamisat… K-Kamisato-san," Floris blurted out, awkwardly, "there's nothing to be ashamed of! Not everyone's first time with these things can be like they are in the movies, right?"

"Right," Kakeru remarked. "It was… quite awkward, and rather uncomfortable for the both of us, especially for myself. Still, in the end, no matter how embarrassing, it became a memory we shared together."

Floris smiled, and nodded approvingly. Her eyelids were becoming heavy, and the van's passenger seat was becoming a place of considerable comfort; the thick, soft fabric its seat and backrest were made up of caressed Floris's body, and massaged her as she moved about in her seat. "That's a nice way of looking at the situation. Kamisato-san, I think I might grab a nap quickly. Don't be afraid to put on music or something, I'm a pretty heavy sleeper… d-don't be afraid to t-touch me, either. I'm a f-freak, I know. S-sorry, that slipped out."

"Our journey should take no longer than an hour and a half, should traffic conditions remain favorable," Kakeru explained, softly. "I'll do my best to ensure that your rest is a deep and refreshing one, Floris-san. I promise, I am a very defensive and, not to toot my own horn, experienced driver. You've nothing to worry about."

Floris placed the back of her head against her seat's headrest, and, one last time nuzzled into the seat. She rested her right hand on Kakeru's knee. Beneath the cool fabric of his uniform's pants, she could feel the warmth produced by his hard, and well-muscled leg.

Within mere minutes, Floris's higher mind faded into the warm, welcoming embrace of slumber, her hand's fingers gripping her date's leg tightly. The whistling of the wind, and the soft hum of their shared vehicle had quickly lulled her.

As Floris slumbered, the ride between school districts was mostly uneventful. Though Kamisato Kakeru had cussed out more than one individual who'd cut him off, or had been driving too slowly for his liking, he'd done so as quietly as possible. Waits at stoplights were encountered, and more than once, Kamisato Kakeru witnessed specimens who'd become victims of Academy City's "interesting" nightlife; groups of intoxicated, or otherwise sober, but rowdy and impressionable youths roamed the walkways, disobeying their respective, or collective curfews and bothering adults on their own night commutes.

Once Kamisato Kakeru, and, by extension, the slumbering Floris had arrived at their destination, Kakeru had just about his fill of driving. After signalling, he made a right turn, into an expansive, and delicately-cobbled driveway. Flanked by two great streetlamps on either of its sides, a tall, silver-colored gate stood vigilantly before him, barring him from entering the lot beyond it. The passageway beyond was additionally protected by walls of brick, which surrounded its perimeters, and rose some fifteen feet into the air. It had an air of royalty to it, like the outer walls of some grand palace.

Just beyond the gate was a tower. Appearing to have been made completely out of glass, the tower, which was in fact a great condominium was twenty-five stories tall, and dozens of meters in width.

Some few feet beyond his driver's side window, a great machine stood, its base placed on the cobbled driveway. Directly behind this machine, there were several rolling, grassy knolls. Thin, but tall, the machine was silver in coloration, with a palm-sized screen placed in its center.

Kamisato Kakeru reached out from the window, and placed the palm of his right hand against the screen's cool surface. Though blank and featureless at first, the screen quickly jumped to life, becoming colorful and lively.

A soft, synthetic voice spoke, its words emerging from a small speaker placed below the screen. Matching text appeared on the screen, accompanying the vocalizations. "GOOD EVENING! FEATURE ANALYSIS SCAN UNDERWAY, PLEASE WAIT/こんばんは！機能解析スキャン進行中、お待ちください/Добрый вечер! ФУНКЦИЯ АНАЛИЗА ПРОДОЛЖАЕТСЯ ПРОВЕРКА, ПОЖАЛУЙСТА, ПОДОЖДИТЕ/안녕하세요! 기능 분석 검사 진행, 기다려 주세요."

This text, floating at the screen's bottom, and at its top scrolled continually, from left to right for some moments, before the synthetic voice spoke again, with accompanying text to follow.

"GOOD EVENING, KAKERU, KAMISATO! WELCOME HOME."

Into the rightmost wall the gate began to roll; within, dutifully-working mechanical limbs yanked the gate inwards. Kakeru slowly drove he and Floris's temporary means of transportation up the incline, and back onto flattened, cobbled ground. The gate swiftly and silently closed behind the vehicle, pushed outwards by the same mechanical arms that'd only moments before pulled it.

Kakeru quickly performed a right turn, and slowly drove down a slope, which lead downwards, towards a large, square-shaped metallic door which opened automatically, as the vehicle approached it.

Into an underground parking garage the vehicle had descended. The metallic door had closed shut behind the borrowed vehicle, blocking out the moon's light; only bright, synthetic light produced by bulbs periodically set around the underground garage's ceiling remained.

After some brief circling, Kakeru parked the vehicle in a parking spot. Next to this spot, a pillar rose upwards, connecting the concrete floor and the ceiling. The number "538-E" was painted upon its surface facing away from the parked vehicle, the paint used to form the number itself bright golden in coloration.

Turning the vehicle off, and removing his borrowed key from the ignition, Kamisato Kakeru pocketed the set of keys, and turned to the slumbering Floris, whose head had awkwardly drooped forwards. Kakeru unbuckled his seatbelt, and nudged the slumbering woman.

"Floris-san, we're here. Could you do me a favor and wake up, please?" He inquired, softly, whispering into his date's ear. She hadn't lied about being a heavy sleeper; Floris didn't even stir.

Kakeru attempted to whisper to Floris a few times more; all his attempts failed. Finally, Kakeru moved onto a spontaneously-conjured 'plan B'.

He moved in, and tapped both of Floris's cheeks with his hands' index and middle fingers, softly and gently, until Floris eventually stirred. Her eyelids soon fluttered open; at the sight of Kamisato Kakeru, her lips curled into a great, wide smile, and her cheeks, with her date's fingers still upon them erupted into a deep blush.

"Morning," Kakeru remarked. "Just kidding. It's still late in the evening. Are you feeling up to making the walk? It's not particularly long; the lobby isn't far at all."

Floris nodded in response, before she began to stretch her arms and legs. She produced a yawn, just as Kakeru parted, and scooted back into the driver's side seat. Though she'd only just awakened, her heart was slamming inside of her, as excitement, nervousness, and ecstasy flowed throughout her body, from her head to the tips of her toes. Floris just didn't know what to expect.


	20. The Kamisato Faction II

Floris' first impression of the ground floor's lobby had been one of royalty; the lobby had resembled more of an entranceway to a great palace than the lobby of a condominium. The floors had been adorned with brightly-colored carpeting, the furniture had been ornate in their designs, painted bright golden, the absolute lap of luxury.

Within the elevator car she and her date stood in, Floris could only look about, quietly, in absolute awe. Its walls were ornately decorated with floral patterns, its surfaces a shade of light silver. The car was spacey, with plenty of room for dozens of passengers to ride safely.

Silently, Floris wondered just how Kamisato Kakeru could afford to live in a place of such grandeur, and still have pocket money to throw around.

As if he'd read her mind, Kakeru spoke up, his voice echoing throughout the mostly-empty, perpetually-moving car.

"Do you like what you see, Floris-san? I hope you don't feel intimidated. I assure you, everyone in this building is friendly, hardly the snobbish types you'd expect to dwell in a place like this. The no animal, no child policies ensure everything stays clean and quiet, as well. On-site security exists to break those who would disturb the peace with immature or otherwise irresponsible antics."

Floris awkwardly giggled. "Have you considered getting into real estate, Kamisato-san? You sound like you're trying to sell me a condo."

The two shared a hearty laugh, before a comfortable silence again.

Once the elevator car came to a halt, Floris only realized that it'd stopped, or had even moved from the ground floor at all once the car's doors quietly slid inwards, retreating within the car itself. Both Kamisato Kakeru and Floris made their way out of the suddenly emptied elevator car, and, moments later its doors quietly slid shut.

The hallway the duo had stepped into was similar in its design to the lobby some floors below. Its walls were tropically colored, with watercolor paintings depicting scenes of tropical paradises hung about. The doors that lead into each individual condo were lightly painted, their colors resembling those of a sunset; Floris felt several degrees warmer simply by walking through the hallway, following her date's lead.

After a short period of time spent traversing the hallway, in which Floris greedily soaked up the warm, synthetic light beamed down from the high ceiling, Kamisato Kakeru came to a stop, before a door. Without warning, Floris's heart leapt into her throat, and began to beat quite speedily. A familiar, yet oddly unfamiliar sense of panic had gripped the corners of Floris's mind, and was tugging at either side of her brain, threatening to tear it apart, trying to tear the seat of her sentience in two.

"K-Kamisato-san?"

"Yeah. Something wrong?"

"I'm… n-nervous."

Once his right hand's palm fell upon her shoulder, her worries disappeared, and her heartbeat began to steadily slow; for only a split second, Floris wondered if he'd activated that right hand of his.

"Don't be, Floris-san. You have nothing to worry about. I promise, you'll be feeling like you're at home in no time at all. My partners are very welcoming… perhaps too welcoming. Don't feel pressured to do anything you don't want to. Don't be afraid to speak up, and say "no."

With that, Kamisato Kakeru turned away, and placed his right hand upon a small, vaguely hand-sized panel on the door's right side, where a knob would've been on an "older" model. The panel produced a series of musical hums, before it hummed a vaguely happy-sounding tune, and the door's lock was disengaged. Pushing the door open, Kakeru stepped into his home, with a still quite nervous Floris in tow.

"KAKERU-CHAN! KAKERU-CHAN! YOU'RE HOME! FINAALLLYYY!"

"W-wait… Bunny Grey? Where are you going? I wasn't finished."

Before Floris could even try to understand what was going on, a great and terrible existence crashed into Kamisato Kakeru, knocking him to the floor. Floris just barely managed to drunkenly stumble out of the way to avoid being part of the avalanche. Clinging to that great existence, a young woman held on for dear life. Floris recognized her immediately; she'd worked with this young woman before.

The great existence was, in fact, another young woman, though only her head could be seen protruding from the enormous, grey-colored mascot suit she was clad in. She rose from the ground, with Kakeru in her furry clutches, and the other young woman clinging to her back like a monkey.

Long, dark-colored hair trailed down her back, and she wore a headband, from which two large, grey-colored bunny ears protruded. Her hair's fringe was swept to the left, while her bangs were neatly trimmed. Her skin was tanned a shade of toasty brown, and her eyes were wide with wonderment, their irises as dark as her hair's color.

"W-whoa. Who's this? She's really pretty. A friend of yours, Kakeru-chan? You really know how to pick 'em!" The mascot-suited bunny woman exclaimed, as she approached a blushing, utterly confused Floris.

"Asuka-chan, could you… could you let me down?"

"Oh! Uh huh. Sorry… I missed you.

The mascot-suited bunny woman set Kakeru down on the hardwood floor, carefully, as if she was handling some priceless treasure. With the mascot suit on, she was some few feet taller than him. She then extended her suited hand outwards, in Floris's direction, her lips curled upwards into a warm smile.

"Hi! Keshouin Asuka. It's a pleasure to meet you! I swear I've seen you somewhere before, I don't forget pretty faces like yours…"

Floris's blush grew in intensity, becoming deeper, and redder, as she awkwardly grinned. She quickly took Keshouin Asuka's suited hand into her own hands, left and right, and vigorously shook her arms. "F-Floris. It's great t-too meet you, too."

Turning her attention to the young woman clinging to Asuka's back, Floris offered her a wave. The clinging woman waved back, stone-faced. "Nn. Greetings Earthling Floris-san. It's good to see you again. My love has wooed you, it seems. Unsurprising… nice rack. I think you'll make an above average addition to our sexy club."

Floris turned to the ornately-designed, tan-colored wall behind her for support. Leaning against it, she giggled as quietly as she could. Kamisato Kakeru, who'd apparently vanished from sight, hadn't been exaggerating. For a moment, she wondered where he went, but by this point her nervousness had all but vanished.

"Uh. T-thanks… Fran. I, u-uh… think they're pretty n-nice, too. You're really different when you're off the job."

"Nn. I know. What were you expecting?"

Leaping down from the back of the mascot-suited bunny woman, the young woman known only as Fran approached Floris. Clad in only a silver-colored hooded sweater with the image of a flying saucer in the center, Floris assumed the young woman named Fran must've had, at the very least, a pair of bootie shorts on beneath it. Fran's bare feet slapped against the hardwood, as Fran closed the distance between herself and Floris. With her sweater's hood pulled up, Floris couldn't get a good look at Fran's hair; her hair's dark-colored bangs were visible, hanging out from the hood, but its fringe was obscured.

Then, she leaned forwards, and raised her right hand to her chin. Scratching it, between her right hand's index finger and thumb, Fran thoroughly examined Floris, from head to toe, before she nodded, apparently satisfied with what was presented.

"Nn. You've still got the body of a goddess, but can you use it? Possessing something and being able to use it to your advantage are two different things. I might have to take you for a test run."

"Don't mind Fran," Asuka softly remarked. Walking behind a heavily blushing, and only semi-conscious Floris, the mascot-suited bunny woman placed either of her hands on the shoulders of the former New Light operative. "You two seem to be on a first-name basis, though, so I'm sure you've adjusted at least a bit. So, tell us about yourself! How'd you meet Kakeru-chan? Did you guys beat some undesirables up together?"

"Us?"

Floris followed the lead of Keshouin Asuka, and Fran, who'd taken to clinging to the former's side. Lovingly, the former had wrapped her arm around the latter, and held her close. The sight was a heartwarming one for Floris, who couldn't help but smirk.

Stepping out from the vibrantly-colored hallway, the trio entered what looked like the equally vibrantly-colored living quarters of the condo. Floris's eyes widened; it was wonderfully decorated, with pieces of furniture seemingly placed about with great purpose and attention to detail. There were a number of large, curved, flatscreen televisions spread about the living quarters' walls, from which they were hung. Some had wires trailing down from them which lead into gaming consoles, while others didn't. All in all, everything was orderly, and cleanly to the point of perfection. Not a speck of dust was visible, not a singular item or piece of furniture out of place. Floris was silently impressed.

In a perfect square, a total of eight incredibly luxurious-looking leather couches were set, with a glass coffee table in the square's center. A pile of smartphones were scattered about the table's surface, as were numerous books, manga, and what looked like magazines encompassing various genres.

One sight interested her more than others, however. Floris even raised an eyebrow, and, seemingly, both Keshouin Asuka and the young woman known as Fran had been expecting such a reaction, as both women turned to face their guest.

"That's… uh, that's Salome," Asuka commented. "She's into some weird things. Completely harmless, though. Well, these days. When she was younger, she was Hell on wheels. No worries now though! Eheheh. She wouldn't hurt a fly."

"You might say," Floris remarked. "I've n-never been one to k-kinkshame, and I'm not about to, but…"

Clad in what looked like numerous raincoats, one on top of another, and perhaps more beneath the two that were visible, the brown-skinned young woman served as a human footstool for another young woman, who had her legs crossed over the raincoat woman's back.

The raincoat woman's hair was silver in coloration, long and delicately combed to the point of absurd perfectionism, it looked more like trailing silk than actual human hair. The woman apparently named Salome didn't seem to have any gripes with the fact that she was being used as a footstool; in fact, she looked like she was having the time of her life. Her cheeks were bright pink in coloration, and her lips were perpetually curled upwards, into an aroused smirk. Salome's eyes were closed as she sat there on her hands and knees, utterly servile. She looked like she was in the throes of some deep carnal pleasure.

The woman whose legs were crossed over Salome's back was a sight to behold on her own, as well. A full, well-combed and lengthy mane of dark-colored hair, which was a few shades lighter than Keshouin Asuka's own sat upon her head, while her form was seated upon one of the leather couches amongst the square. Dark-colored glasses with large, square-shaped frames adorned her face. Clad in a plain, white tank top and a pair of dark-colored short shorts, she looked unconcerned, as she ran her fingers over the tempered glass screen of the smartphone clutched in her right hand. Of all her features, this woman's most standout feature was the enormous exotic flowers that bloomed from either side of her head. An earbud was plugged into either of her ears, the wire that connected both trailing downwards, partially entrapped between her well-developed bosom.

Salome's eyes had opened, and, curiously, she looked on at the trio of young women before her. The irises of Salome's eyes were lavender-colored, wide and full of life. She cocked her head to one side, before her eyes fell upon Floris's form. Hungrily, Salome licked her lips, like a predator who'd come upon prey, with an empty stomach to fill.

"And who might we have here, hmm? What has onii-chan brought home to us, new meat?"

Guiding Floris, Keshouin Asuka placed either of her hands on the former New Light operative's shoulders, and moved her towards one of the nearby couches. Across from the human footstool that was Salome, Floris was seated, before both Asuka and Fran took their respective seats next to her. Fran clambered into Asuka's lap, and threw her arms around Asuka's neck, cuddling close to the mascot-suited bunny woman.

Then, before Fran had the chance to speak, Floris awkwardly started. She was far too intoxicated to care even a bit about the odd scenes around her; it was the realization that she'd allowed a conversation to fall between the cracks that'd startled her more than anything else.

"Keshouin-san, b-big sorries all around, y-you asked me a q-question, and I totally spaced out."

"You and Fran would get along," Salome sarcastically remarked, craning her neck to look at Floris. "Ninety percent of the time, she's a straight-up space cadet. One-way radio; messages get through to the other side, but nothing comes back."

"Salome," Asuka scolded, causing the raincoat-wearing human footstool to begin laughing at Fran's expense; Fran herself hardly seemed to care, as she was too busy gripping onto "Bunny Grey", and repeatedly kissing "Bunny Grey's" neck. Floris found the display of affection to be oddly arousing, though she tried her best not to look; such was impolite.

"No worries, Floris. I'm not sure where Kakeru-chan's gotten off to, or else he'd be probably doing the introductions."

Salome shifted her weight from knee to knee. Against the thick pillows beneath them, her knees caused the hardwood floor to creak. This seemingly gained the attention of the plant woman, who unplugged one of her earbuds from her ears. Looking up, she started, before she began to grin.

"Soooo. Mr. Playboy's brought us some new meat, has he? It's nice to make your acquaintance. I'm Claire. I'd shake your hand, but… long day. Don't want to get up. How about an air shake?"

Floris giggled; Kakeru had definitely been right. "Yeah, an air shake will work."

The young woman apparently named Claire extended her hand, as did Floris; some six feet apart, they both shook their hands in the air, and proceeded to share a few moments of laughter.

"Anyways!" Floris announced, turning her attention to Asuka. "Let's talk. I'm going to tell you all about how your, um… boyfriend? Is that the right term? And I met, before I forget again. S-sorry, I-I'm kind of tipsy. Of my own v-volition, of course!"

Floris looked to Fran, who was completely lost in her constant kissing of Asuka's neck, and her constant cuddling of Asuka's mascot-suited form.

"Fran? Is everyone… uh, you know? Familiar?"

Fran reluctantly ceased her worship of Keshouin Asuka's body. "Nn. With magic? Yeah. Everyone knows about magic here. A good bunch of us are magicians, and our boyfriend works for magicians. It'd only make sense. Say what you've got to say, and quit worrying so much. We're all friends here… maybe a bit more than friends."

For a period of time, Floris explained to Keshouin Asuka, and, therefore to the young women named Fran, Salome, and Claire, by association her history with Kamisato Kakeru; how the two had met through the City's Supreme Superintendent, and had been put to work on the same team as Tsuchimikado Motoharu and Stiyl Magnus. Occasionally, Asuka would pause Floris to ask or a question, and more than once Salome had a sarcastic remark to add. Both Claire and Fran had remained silent, listening intently to the tale Floris was weaving.

"New Light," Salome commented; though she was a bit late on the uptake, as Floris had long since explained her connection to the organization, Floris paused to hear her out regardless of this fact. "Jog my memory. Weren't you guys pretty much the cause of British Halloween, or… what is it they're calling it nowadays? "The Troubles"? I love the conspiracy theories, to be honest. "Elizard staged a coup to increase her own grip on the United Kingdom! Wake up!" Eheheh… idiotic, don'tcha think?"

"We were couriers," Floris answered, her head held high, and with a sense of pride burning in her heart. "It was our j-job to get something of great importance to somewhere of great i-importance, for a purpose of great importance. C-can't really say much more than that. You k-know how… official b-business can be."

Salome nonchalantly shrugged, as she remained on her hands and knees. "I don't, actually. I don't follow rules; rules were meant to be broken, and so that's exactly what I do. It's far more fun than just going along with what everyone tells you, don'tcha think? Off the rails!"

"Hush, slave," Claire remarked, gently jabbing Salome's back with the heel of her foot.

"Y-yes, m-mistress." Salome shuddered as pleasurable tingles surged throughout her body. Her lips curled upwards, even more so than previously, and she smiled, her blush only deepening. Floris stifled a giggle at the sight, as both Fran and Asuka looked to one another. The newcomer was adapting well.

"Is there anything else that New Light has done in the past to influence events?" Asuka softly inquired. Fran had taken to snuggling into Asuka's mascot-suited form, and occasionally produced soft vocalizations, which Floris found to be absolutely adorable; a part of the drunken Floris wanted to snuggle up to Fran herself.

"W-well," Floris stammered, rather awkwardly. "There was this one thing in Academy City, after that… upside-down thing in the tubes was killed off."

"Don't keep us waiting, new meat," Salome commented, impatiently. "This is ladies' bonding time, after all. Apparently. It is now, because I said it is. This is a good system, don'tcha think? I don't have to break my own rules, because they're not completely stupid."

The young woman known as Claire produced a sigh, and shuffled about in place, adjusting the placing of her legs over Salome's back, before she looked to Floris, and nodded her head. The mascot-suited bunny woman, Keshouin Asuka's full attention also seemed to be on the former New Light operative.

"O-okay… d-don't hold it against me if I get some t-things wrong, or f-fuck some words u-up… I'm p-pretty sloshed."

Kamisato Kakeru's intentions had started off being innocent; he had that going for him, at least. Regardless, his conscience was continually lashing out at an apparently exposed vein of his higher mind, trying to whip him into shape. It wasn't doing too terrible of a job.

In one of the condo's four comfortably spacey and wonderfully-furnished restrooms, the World Rejector's Bearer had only recently stepped out from within the spacious walk-in shower. Sliding the shower's glass door shut behind him, he made his way to the large, metallic rack, which held his sleepwear, as well a set of sleepwear which Kakeru instantly identified as belonging to Salome; it was little more than a 'bra' whose cups would've barely covered his non-biological sister's nipples, and a G-string.

After patting his sopping form down with his tropically-themed towel, the World Rejector's bearer slipped himself into his sleepwear; a simple, black-colored, short-sleeved shirt, a pair of baggy boxers, and warm socks whose elastics had long ago been worn out. At least he could say that he regularly washed them, even if they weren't in the best of conditions.

There was a glaring problem that he was presented with, however; from his crotch, a monolithic protrusion jutted forth, leaning slightly to his left, curved under its own weight, and it wasn't going away, no matter what he did. Kakeru had pinched himself, slapped himself, and had even rinsed his hands beneath cool water ejected from the nearby sink's faucet; nothing seemed to do the trick. Nothing, save one thing would do the trick, and the World Rejector's Bearer knew it. There was someone in the home that he wanted to pay a visit, for more than one reason; taking care of the glaring issue was a priority, but not necessarily the top priority.

Exiting the bathroom, and leaving the brightly-colored door open behind him, Kakeru had some vague idea of where he was heading to. Briskly jogging down a hallway adjacent from the bathroom, feet slapping against the hardwood flooring, he passed by a room whose brightly-colored door was closed. The singsong voices of the Fortune-Telling Girls, Sunny and Rain could be heard excitedly cheering one another on – evidently, they were hosting one of their livestreams. Kakeru smiled warmly at the thought of the two enjoying themselves as he passed their room by.

Down that same hallway he walked, until he turned down a corridor, and passed by a great portrait mounted upon the wall; it depicted the twenty young woman who'd stood by him when others hadn't, who called him their shared partner piling onto him, in the middle of a photographer's studio, complete with studio lights and a plain, white screen behind the group. Kamisato Kakeru himself looked like he'd been having the time of his life; his mouth was wide open in a jovial laugh, his eyes closed.

Finally, after a trip that'd felt like it'd taken hours, Kakeru arrived before a door which looked like all the others in his condo. Brightly-colored, it was closed, though not locked. His right hand, closed into a fist was forcefully knocked against it, once, twice, and then a third time.

"Kakeru-kun. I'd know that knock anywhere; coommeee innnn."

Turning the door's ornate knob to the left, Kamisato Kakeru barely avoided pushing the head of his own knob against the door's surface. Pushing it open, he awkwardly stepped into the room beyond the door, before he closed the door gently behind him.

He'd stepped into the space designated as the "general electronics room"; among essential pieces of furniture such as a king-sized bed, a simplistic leather couch, and a small refrigerator, a plain, but lengthy wooden desk was set, at the north-most side of the room. A computer tower that was anything but simplistic was set upon its gleaming, polished surface. The tower itself looked like something out of the twenty-second, or even twenty-third century; or, at least, what futurists thought tech from a faraway time might look like.

White in coloration, the tower was enormous, but sleek and stylish, with multiple grooves set across its case. Two identically-designed flatscreen monitors, a mechanical keyboard, a mechanical mouse and a long, flat USB drive were plugged into the tower, while a set of surround sound speakers were placed in the four upper corners of the room, functioning over a wireless connection to the tower. On the computer's monitors, what looked like editing software in action was visible.

Facing away from the World Rejector's Bearer, a young woman with curly, golden hair was seated in a comfortable-looking, leather-bound chair, her right leg crossed over her left.

"I had a feeling you'd come to me at some point or another tonight, Kakeru-kun. I'm very glad for that, as I've been wanting you all. day. long. Since I awoke this morning, in fact. By the sounds of things, you've brought us a new friend… I'll be delighted to meet her. Anyhoo, what'll it be, hm? Business? Or pleasure?"

"Toyama Luca? Turn around and face me, sweet pea. I miss seeing that beautiful face."

"Pleasure, then. I see. You're really not as much of an "iron man" as you'd like yourself to be, you know, Kakeru-kun. Every man has weaknesses, and I… well, you and I both know that I know exactly what your weaknesses are."

The young woman named Toyama Luca did just that. Swivelling her chair to the right, her blue irises locked with Kamisato Kakeru's own brown ones, sending a comfortingly familiar chill down his spine. As her eyes gazed down, eventually fixating on the bulge protruding from his crotch, she raised her left hand's fingers to her mouth, and quietly giggled, shaking her head in mock-disappointment.

Noticeably not clad in her pirate garb, she was instead adorned in a furry, warm-looking robe, and little more. Toyama Luca rose from her seat, and, bare feet pressing against the room's hardwood flooring, made her way towards her shared lover, with primordial, savage hunger completely visible in her eyes. She licked her lips, and clicked her tongue in pleasure at the mere sight of him. Luca's form was tall, slender and athletic, with distinctly feminine curves. She was among the ultimate in pleasure, and Kamisato Kakeru knew it.

"Holding back on the new girl, Kakeru-kun? You're very sweet, but… beneath that sugar coating, I know there's a very, very evil man in there; an evil man I wouldn't mind playing with. I'm sure I don't have to convince you, though; here you are, taking the initiative, and admitting that you need a little bit of help.

"I like it. You live with a home full of sexy girls who'd love nothing more than to drop their panties for you at a moment's notice; there's no need to sit at the edge of your bed, tugging on yourself like some… frustrated high-schooler. We take care of each other, here, especially… here. We can pretend to be a boring monogamous couple, for now, if you'd like; or we could call Fran, too. We were working on… oops! That's a surprise. You'll know no more until the time is right."

Kamisato Kakeru closed the remaining distance between himself and Toyama Luca. Throwing his arms around her waist, he pulled her close, Luca's form grinding against his erect member. Her predatory grin widened, while she reached down into her shared lover's boxers with both of her hands. Her line of sight never left Kakeru's, as she grasped the hardened thing in the palms of her hands. It twitched, and pulsated, its thickness and warmness so utterly wonderful in the palms of her hands.

"The works, Kakeru-kun?"

"The works, Luca; if you'd be so kind. Only if you want to, of course. I don't mean to impose."

"You bet your ass I want to. So be it. Prepare yourself, loverboy."

With a mighty shove, Toyama Luca forced Kamisato Kakeru back towards the king-sized bed, where she forcibly shoved him onto his back, before her hands found their way back into his boxers, wrapping around the pulsating, erect thing within.

"Let me get it out, Kakeru-kun. I'll spit on it a little; don't want to give you friction burn, now, do we? Are you feeling sensitive down there, hm? Keep me up to date. How about your collar, Kakeru-kun? Would you like me to put it on for you? I wouldn't mind putting you in chains while I get that cock of yours off. Make sure that you spurt lots for me."

"I think I'll hold back on the collar tonight," Kakeru remarked, as he felt pleasure surge throughout his body. Toyama Luca had lobbed multiple globs of her saliva onto his 'other head', moistening it, as she gently stimulated the fleshy device with her hands. "I hope that doesn't disappoint you."

Luca shrugged indifferently, as he laid herself on her side, continuing to work her lover up and down, causing him to produce restrained, pleasured moans. Luca's grin widened, as she leaned in and placed multiple kisses to its shaft.

"I'm just grateful you decided to come and pay me a visit, especially after you've picked up a new girl. I suppose that's not entirely unexpected of you, is it? I still have editing to do, but… you always come first, Kakeru-kun. Like I said, make sure you spurt lots for me. I want to empty those big, manly things down there, and make you feel as good as possible. God knows you deserve it."

For a short while, Luca continued on her way; gently tugging, kissing the erect thing, and sometimes teasing it with the tip of her tongue. Slowly, but surely, Kamisato Kakeru was nearing the point of a climax, as he ran his hands through Toyama Luca's curly hair, his fingers dancing over her scalp. Wordlessly, this continued.

"Too tight, Kakeru-kun? Too rough?"

"N-no, Luca. Y-you're doing… j-just fine. Don't stop."

Then, suddenly, it began to throb, as that desirable tingling sensation surged throughout the body of the World Rejector's Bearer. Clenching his teeth, Kakeru's breathing increased in its rate of inhalations and exhalations. This physical change didn't go unnoticed by Toyama Luca, either, who began to quietly giggle. She removed her hands from Kakeru's exposed member, causing him to look up, curiously; was he expected to finish on his own? He could practically feel himself preparing to explode; why had Luca stopped? Had the mood passed her by?

His questions were answered when Luca forcibly threw her robe open, and shrugged either of her arms out from within its baggy sleeves, exposing her nude form to him. The article of clothing fell in a lump on the ground, discarded like a piece of trash, as Luca returned to the work she enjoyed so very much. Sitting herself next to her shared lover, she worked him up and down, increasing her hands' speed after lubricating the pulsating thing with her saliva.

"Aye, aye, cap'n. It feels like you're going to cum very soon, Kakeru-kun; so, here. Something for you to look at, to help you along. You know what they say about visual stimuli… so, just stare. When you're ready to cum, just cum."

Soon, just a little bit too soon for his own liking, that was exactly what Kakeru did. With his eyes glued to his lover's exposed bosom, bouncing up and down rhythmically like some carnival attraction, he felt himself reach the point of climax.

For a split second, universal understanding was upon him; everything aligned perfectly, and he comprehended all things. It was as if he'd reached some higher state of knowing, for the shortest of split seconds, perhaps less.

Kakeru swiftly inhaled, producing a hissing sound as his load was blown, quite violently. Luca managed to capture most of it in her hands, though, some managed to escape, landing on Kakeru's bare upper torso, like bursts of water fired from the barrel of a water gun.

"You didn't last very long," Luca commented, pouting slightly. "You really were holding back for a long time, weren't you? It's okay, there's nothing to be ashamed of, Kakeru-kun. This isn't some adult video. You gave me so much of this thick, warm cum. I'll take that as a compliment."

Kakeru, who seemed to be in no position to comment simply raised his right hand, and offered Luca a thumb up, before the raised limb fell back against the bed, limp and weakened. The World Rejector's Bearer was still panting viciously, occasionally chuckling under his breath.

"L-Luca," Kakeru spoke, after he'd finally managed to lift himself from the bed. He was moving towards the same location as her, the box of tissues located on the desk. "T-that was… alright, hold it, just… one minute. Okay, I can't really seem to talk. Give me a second, just a few… got to catch my breath."

Toyama Luca was flattered, and her cheeks showed it. After wiping her own hands down with a collection of tissues, she moved to do the same for her shared lover's soiled torso; but, evidently, he'd already taken care of himself, as he finished throwing his own wads of tissues into the trash bin beneath the desk.

"Okay. I think I can communicate properly, now. What I was trying to say was… that was… superb, as always; and of course, I wanted to offer you my thanks. You didn't have to, and yet you were more than down to help me out. It's appreciated. It really, really is."

Toyama Luca winked, as she recovered her discarded robe, and slipped the article of clothing back on. "Don't think it's all about you, Kakeru-kun. I love taking care of you, I always have… but I've also always loved getting my own rocks off. One of the best ways for me to do that is to grab onto that big, throbbing menace of yours and just… lose it. Now, come along, like a good boy. It's hand-washing time. I won't be able to edit my video like this."

There was a conversation starter; though Kamisato Kakeru was physically relieved, he wasn't quite there mentally. Oddly, he felt almost misogynistic. He wanted to talk to his lover, see what was going on in her life, not just mate with her as if they were a couple of brood animals in a pen and then go off to do his own thing. The overwhelming urge to get close to Luca overtook him, and Kakeru gave into its demands.

Catching up to her side, Kakeru wrapped his right arm around Luca's waist, and pulled her close to him, in an affectionate embrace. She produced an amused-sounding "oh?" but didn't object. In fact, she returned his embrace with the upmost swiftness.

Kakeru kissed the side of Luca's head, his lips gently pressed against her golden, curly locks, causing her to blush. "What video, Luca? Is it one of your Truth Hunt videos? I'm quite fond of that series of yours. I always find myself learning something new. You still are producing those, no? Your new analytical videos are of the same high quality, but both series are easy to consume in their own ways."

The young woman nodded enthusiastically. "You're still watching, Kakeru-kun? I-I'm… flattered, to say the least. I'm working on my twenty thousand subscribers special, actually. It's arguably one of my biggest projects; nearly forty-five minutes in length, it's the largest list I've ever done. Twenty-five topics are being covered, in total. Do you think you'll be able to catch my special?"

"Of course, I won't simply find time, Luca; I'll make time."

As the two passed by the room in which, judging by the sounds coming from within, Sunny and Rain were still livestreaming. Kakeru whistled, impressed. "Twenty thousand… quite the milestone. Congratulations. You can bet that I'll be watching the new episode, as soon as it premiers. What exactly is the subject matter, if you don't mind my prying?"

Stepping into the bathroom, with Kamisato Kakeru following not far behind, Toyama Luca's blush only deepened, as she smiled a wide, toothy grin. "Not at all, Kakeru-kun… I really appreciate your interest. Doing this means a lot to me, you know. It feels good when you've found your passion, and you can just… make it happen. It's a labor of love.

"I actually worked with Fran to research everything that the video called for. We both ended up deciding on wanting to tackle abandoned locations as an overarching list subject, but, we wanted to step outside the usual locations. Of course, Franny-Wanny wanted to do more "haunted" ones than not, and those that've been rumored to have served as landing pads for alien crafts. Me? I just want to stay away from as many former medical facilities as possible. It's such a cliché at this point."

As Toyama Luca rinsed her hands with soap, within the stream of water ejected from the bathroom sink's ornate faucet, Kakeru leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

"The abandoned mental, or otherwise health-related facility rides a fine line between trope and cliché. Regardless, that's great to hear, Luca. I hope I didn't get in your way, or slow anything down. What can I say for myself? A man has needs, and… I've missed you, Luca. I wanted you."

"No need to explain yourself, Kakeru-kun," Luca remarked. "I missed you today, and I wanted you too. I still want you, you know. I was feeling up to it, too; I needed a break from editing, anyways. My eyes were getting kind of sore, so, you did me a favor by paying me a little visit. Don't you ever worry, even for a second about paying me visits. I'll drop everything for you, Kakeru-kun. You're my number one priority, just like everyone else under this roof."

Lifting her dripping hands towards the back of the bathroom's door, Luca reached out for the towel that hung from the small, metallic rack. Grabbing at it, she dried both the palms and the tops of her hands, as Kakeru watched on, curiously. Her motions were oddly captivating to him; the way she stood up on her toes, how she delicately handled the towel in her hands, the way in which her tongue slid over her lower lip as she performed the menial task. It all made Kamisato Kakeru fall more and more for Toyama Luca, and for all the young, beautiful women he called his partners; they all had their adorable little quirks that made them, them.

Snapping out of his trance, Kakeru realized it was his turn to wash up, even though he'd taken a shower not even a half an hour prior. He chuckled under his breath at this fact.

"So, what have you been up to, Kakeru-kun? Nothing good, I'm sure. I'm quite sure that you've been nothing but trouble; a bad, bad boy. Are you going to let me meet the new girl, hmm? We might just have to induct her into our ranks, if she's Faction material."

"Last I checked," Kakeru began, "she was downstairs, with Asuka, Fran, Claire and Salome. They've probably corrupted her already. You'll be the straw that'll break the camel's back, Luca."

Toyama Luca fluffed her curly locks, as Kakeru dried his own hands on the towel behind the bathroom's door. Grabbing at his clothed crotch with her hands, Luca closed in and whispered, softly, into her shared lover's ear, "I'll break more than the camel's back, depending on what she's like. Give me fifteen minutes, at the absolute maximum."

"WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?! TELL UUSSSSS!" Salome cried aloud, as she rolled on her back. With her back against the living quarters' hardwood flooring, Salome was practically in tears. She'd initially been disappointed that Claire had pulled her legs up, but, disappointment had given way to hilarity, as this newcomer, "Floris", weaved her tale. Claire's lower body wasn't going anywhere; Salome could have it all to herself another time.

"O-okay, so… L-Lessar comes back to the h-hotel, COVERED in n-nutstains… nobody knows where she even c-came from. L-Lancis and I are t-trying to get her cleaned up, b-before Bayloupe finds o-out, and royally FLIPS. Lessar's c-completely smashed, begging for more d-dick, a-and we're trying to g-get her into the shower… t-then, she sees the shower curtain rod, and b-both Lancis and I are… w-well, we've both known Lessar for a w-while by this p-point, so we know exactly what she's t-thinking."

Both of Asuka's mascot-suited hands had risen to her face, covering her mouth; the mascot-suited bunny woman's eyes were wide, Floris couldn't tell if it was horror or excitement behind them. "Did she… you know… with the rod?"

"She tried," Floris confirmed, stifling a laugh. "The two of us, L-Lancis and I, we had to h-hold her back. Eventually, w-we just… oh my God, w-we ended up tying her up and throwing h-her in the closet! B-B… B-Bayloupe found her in there in the morning, and she was SO pissed!"

Claire tossed her head back, cackling aloud like some deranged hyena. Her laughter awoke Fran, who'd fallen asleep, snuggled up in Keshouin Asuka's arms. After looking around for a short period, Fran returned to her slumber. Salome had joined her "mistress" in laughter; the sight playing out in her mind's eye was absolutely hysterical to her.

"What did I tell you, huh? You'd fit in just fine. You're one of us now, Floris-san. One of us, one of us, one of us…"

Floris turned her attention to her right; coming down from a staircase that she'd previous neglected to notice, close to the rightmost hallway was Kamisato Kakeru, and another young woman. Holding herself with confidence and an almost overwhelming aura of pride, the golden, curly-haired young woman walked at Kakeru's side, clad in an ornate and quite expensive-looking robe. Her eyes were bright blue, like two sapphires that'd been inserted into the whites of her eyes. Her lips were soft-looking, and full, though not too large.

Kakeru made his way behind Floris, who'd remained seated on the couch, with Keshouin Asuka and a slumbering Fran at her side. Placing both of his hands on Floris's shoulders, he gently, but firmly massaged her, causing the young woman to produce a soft, pleasured vocalization.

"How are you feeling, Floris-san? You seem to be getting along with everyone alright. Forgive me for disappearing on you; I had to shower, quickly. I felt quite… icky, for lack of a better word. If you'd like to shower, feel free to. The door can be locked from the inside, and the interior shower itself can't be observed from the outside, so long as the door is closed. You don't have to of course; just an offer."

Toyama Luca threw herself down next to Floris. Crossing her long, bare right leg over her left, Luca leaned in close to Floris's ear. Suggestively, she whispered in a soft, hushed, and oddly perverted tone. "Or, you can take some of us with you. Claire, across from you, really knows how to take care of a girl, and make her feel good. Kakeru-kun very much knows how to pick them, you're proof of that. You're… I could make you mine in a New York minute."

Floris didn't quite know how to feel. In her intoxicated state, she didn't quite know if the sexually-charged feelings coursing through her were genuine, or a result of the alcohol in her bloodstream clouding her judgment.

Swallowing, hard, Floris crossed her own legs, and set her clasped hands in her lap, laughing awkwardly, more to herself than to anyone else around her.

"Thanks, K-Kamisato-san… I think I m-might take you up on your o-offer. I could go for a h-hot shower."

Kakeru nodded, and stepped out from behind the seated Floris. He cracked his neck with his right hand, as he gently flicked the back of Keshouin Asuka's head with the index finger and thumb of his left, causing her to quietly giggle. Before he could get too far away from her, Asuka grabbed Kakeru's left hand, and swiftly rubbed her face against its palm for a few moments.

The mascot-suited bunny woman reluctantly let Kakeru's hand go, and turned her attention to the slumbering Fran, whose bangs she began to play with.

Kakeru offered Floris his right hand. Floris, who'd risen from the couch, took it into her own left, and looked back towards the congregation of young women behind her.

Floris had caught the golden, curly-haired woman curiously observing her posterior. Claire had returned to looking down at her phone, and the brown-skinned young woman, Salome, had sat herself before Claire like an obedient puppy, smiling wildly and blushing heavily.

"I'll show you to the closest bathroom, Floris-san."

"Y-you have more than one?!"

A chuckling Kakeru nodded once. "Four in total. With twenty-one people living here, sometimes all at once, plenty of bathrooms are a necessity. Thankfully, everyone is fairly low maintenance, so, generally, under normal circumstances, everyone gets their turn, and can take a fair amount of time to engage in whatever business it is they need, or want to. That's what's important, Floris-san; equality, and a collective understanding of feelings and emotions. It makes a relationship such as the one you see before you possible."

"Kamisato-san?"

"Mhm?"

As the duo slowly began to ascend the hardwood staircase, Floris raised her free right had to her lower lip. Fiddling with the fleshy protrusions, rolling it between her right hand's thumb and middle finger, Floris spoke her piece.

"This isn't at all what I was expecting. I d-don't really k-know what I was expecting, to be h-honest, but… I know in those d-documentaries, all the girls, or women pretty much just… m-mindlessly hate one another, and are c-constantly fighting for the m-male's affection. T-that's not what this at all… this is, honestly… really b-beautiful, from what I'm s-seeing."

As Kakeru climbed the last step, followed in short order by Floris, he breathed a sigh. Cracking his neck with his free hand, he looked to the former New Light operative. When their eyes locked, Kakeru found himself grinning.

"Most of those documentaries are fictionalized, starring paid, albeit unknown actors and actresses. Lasting polygamous relationships are hardly such a common existence. Most, sadly, are born of an attempt to subvert jealousy, a force which simply can't be subverted. Come, I'll show you to the bathroom, and give you the rundown on how everything works. The shower's taps can be… tricky, if you don't know what you're doing. I'd like to show you how to lock the shower door from the inside, as well, so you don't find yourself feeling uncomfortable."

Floris stopped Kakeru, and moved in front of him. Looking into his dark irises, the former New Light operative felt her throat becoming dry, and slowly but surely closing up. For a moment, she thought she might suddenly break down into tears.

"Want to know something, Kamisato-san? I'm so glad I didn't just go back to my lodging. I was laughing harder with you, earlier, at the bar, and on our way back here, w-well, when I was awake, and with the girls downstairs than I've laughed in a… a really long time.

"Thank you, for giving me this opportunity. I never would've thought that things were going to play out like this, when just last week I thought I'd never get close to you, but I'm not complaining."

Floris started. She hadn't seen Kakeru raise his right hand, nor had she seen it closing in on her right cheek. His fingers set themselves against her soft, silky skin.

"You're welcome, Floris-san. I've enjoyed my time with you, as well, immensely. I too am very glad that we could become closer than before; you're a very fun person to spend time with. I think this will make us a more effective team, as well, as we won't be stumbling over one another… at least not as often as previously."

On the floor below Kamisato Kakeru and Floris, a very different scene was playing out.

Claire considered rising from her seat; her human footstool, Salome, had been stolen by Toyama Luca, who Salome was just as fond of. With her legs crossed across Salome's back, the golden, curly-haired beauty leaned back into the couch, her eyes closed. Beneath her, the brown-skinned woman looked to be in a state of extreme pleasure; her lips were parted into a toothy grin, and her cheeks glowed bright pink. The woman with the exotic plants sprouting from her form thought back to a time when the "Mass Murderer" had been anything but submissive.

Then, something had changed. She'd suddenly come to adore being used as a piece of human furniture. Claire hadn't, and still wasn't about to go and question her stroke of good fortune too deeply.

"Salome? You think you can handle having two mistresses put their legs all over you? I might just come over there. I don't want to hold my own body up right now. Maybe tomorrow I'll give you a break, maybe I won't."

Salome's answer was quick, simple, and to the point. "I might spontaneously cum if you do. If Bunny Grey did, too, I might just die."

Claire shrugged. Rising up, the young woman walked her athletic, fit form to the opposite couch, and lazily tossed herself down between "Bunny Grey" and Toyama Luca, who welcomed the woman who bore exotic plants by planting an affectionate kiss to her right cheek.

As Claire set her legs over Salome's back, and stacked one foot atop another, the brown-skinned, raincoat-wearing woman suddenly produced a loud, pleasured moan, her form shuddering.

"T-two b-beautiful mistresses u-u… u-using me. I think I'm going to cum… all over the place. I don't want this night to end. We can stay like this, right?! You can both sleep like this! I know I can! This is a good w-way of doing things, d-don'tcha think?!"

"Life is good, Claire."

"When you have such an obedient little slave-girl, it sure is."

Salome bit her lower lip; the praise from her "mistress" alone was enough to drive Salome to the wild, untamed edges of madness. If having a kink like the one she had was a bad thing, then Salome was bad to the bone; and Salome loved it.


	21. Loving Families

In a certain bedroom, within a certain home in Japan's capital, Tokyo, northwest of that city's Bay, a couple who'd been married far longer than Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki had spoken in hushed tones.

On the right side of the large bed, with the floral-patterned sheets pulled up to her collarbone, and a paperback novel clutched in her hands, her vision was glued to its pages. Kamijou Shiina laid quietly, her head propped up against the left shoulder of her husband, Kamijou Touya, who'd forsaken the bed's sheets, allowing his wife to cocoon herself.

"My, my; do you feel that too?"

"Hm?"

"Surely you feel the pressure too; or perhaps this is just something only a mother knows. I think that our son and our daughter-in-law are becoming mischievous. Might we have a grandchild soon?"

If keeping their hands off one another in the relatively open space of "the Grand Kingdom" had been something that was difficult to accomplish – and it certainly had been – then keeping their hands off one another within the darkened rear seat of a taxi was a task that was nearly impossible to accomplish. Both parties awkwardly fidgeted and more than once, Touma's free hand nearly found itself grabbing at his wife's form.

Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki had seated themselves on opposite sides of the back seat, seatbelts buckled around their respective forms, with the tiny former Magic God Othinus between them, seated respectfully with her little legs beneath her posterior. Her "jailer's" left hand was rested protectively over her form, acting as a makeshift seatbelt. On top of her husband's own, the palm of Misaki's right hand was set.

Though he didn't speak much, the taxi's driver was clearly having a good time. An upbeat tune, one whose lyrics spoke of the "good things" in life, such as expensive beverages, expensive yachts and expensive tropical getaways played softly over the cab's speakers. The vehicle's driver, a young man of North American descent, seemingly only in his mid twenties bobbed his head repeatedly, falling perfectly in line with the subtle thumps of the song's bass.

Down a sparsely-populate highway in Academy City's eighth school district the taxi drove at a brisk speed. The ride was a smooth one; the darkened road beneath the vehicle's wheels was without even a single pothole, and lacked even a singular bump. There seemed to be nothing in terms of roadway hazards; the highway's guardrails glowed brightly beneath the light of the moon, partly golden in coloration; the portions of the guardrails that were darkly colored didn't glow quite as much as their brightly-colored counterparts.

"What do you think Index is up to? Asleep probably? Last Order sounded absolutely trashed on the phone. Also, what was that music they, or she was listening to? I think I heard something about a "Starman?"

Misaki smiled when her husband broke admittedly comfortable silence. Beneath their hands, with the side of her face resting against the top of her "co-jailer's" hand, Othinus had fallen into a light slumber. The tiny former Magic God quietly snored, as her little chest rhythmically rose and fell.

"She could be," Misaki spoke in response. "Alternatively, she could still be awake and getting into some sort of trouble with that devil Last Order. I am truly glad that Index has such a close friend to spend time with and to grow with, they always did have this natural click about them. Did you see it as well when we were younger? Of course, we hardly had the time to pay attention to such wholesome things. As for a "Starman", I am not quite certain myself."

Touma's vision turned to the window near him, before he turned back to face his beloved. In the opposite window, he could see the golden colors of Academy City's illuminated structures being reflected; great billboards, even greater high rise structures, and the changing hues of stoplights.

"That makes two of us. They always were close. It's great that Fremea ended up getting close with them too; things weren't always so easy for any of us, beautiful, especially not for her. Life kicked the whole bunch of us in the ass and it kicked us hard. It's nice how they have a tightly-knit little circle of friends."

"Little Fremea. Sweet, innocent little Fremea. If she did not have such superb anchors I would be concerned for where she would have ended up," Misaki spoke. "I wonder sometimes, Touma. About she and her sister's parents. Did they… were they…? Or were Fremea and her sister abandoned children? Perhaps they do not even know."

Touma shook his head, offering his wife a facial expression that she interpreted as meaning "I don't know".

"She never said anything about it. Maybe Fremea knows and just doesn't want to talk about it? Can't say I'd blame her. if I'd been in her predicament I probably wouldn't have wanted to say anything about it either. I'd probably just want to leave it be and try not to think about it that much, you know?"

"I do know."

For the briefest of moments, a look of melancholy had appeared on the delicate features of Kamijou Misaki's face. Though Misaki had quickly shrugged it off, returning her facial expression to one of contentment, Touma wasn't dense; in the present he had no reason to pretend to be, either. He leaned inwards, and raised an eyebrow.

"Aside from tragic circumstances that couldn't have been prevented I guess some people just aren't cut out to be parents. Some people just don't know what they're doing, and some people are just selfish. I can't say I hate a lot of people; I can count the people I can say that I hate on one hand, but I do hate some people. Beautiful, is that a dick thing to say? I don't want to sound like a dick."

Kamijou Misaki wasn't about to defend them. "Speak freely, husband. My own distaste gravitates in either direction, and likely matches your own in its extremity. They are 'parents' in name only and nothing more. It is not a subject that I would like to bog what remains of our evening down with, however; let us focus on happier things, hm?"

"Sounds good to me, beautiful. Sounds great to me."

A comfortable silence returned, falling over the married couple like a soft, warm sheet. For the remainder of their ride through Academy City's eighth school district, and then through part of its seventh, both Kamijou Misaki and Kamijou Touma simply basked in one another's respective presences, enjoyed the sights of Academy City bathed in the night's darkness around them, and absorbed the positive, upbeat music that played over the taxi's speaker system.

Finally, after what only seemed like a few minutes of time spent on the remainder of their commute, the taxi came to a gentle halt before the Kamijous' apartment complex.

Instantaneously, Touma leaned forward of his own accord; his vision searched for and eventually landed upon the small electronic box mounted upon the vehicle's dashboard. A series of numbers were displayed, bright green in coloration, with a small yen symbol to the numbers' left. ¥5,571.37 would be the married couple's fee.

"Hey, do you guys take debit?"

"Yuh huh."

Placed next to the area where the vehicle's ashtray would've been, a rather bulky-looking device was handed back by the vehicle's driver to Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki, the former of whom passed the device to the latter. Finances made the Imagine Breaker's Bearer's brain hurt.

Kamijou Misaki performed the "dirty deed", and then handed the device back to the taxi's driver before she placed her bank card back into her purse, from where she'd retrieved it.

"Everythin' checks out my dudes, and my… erm, my mini-dude. Y'all 'ave a good night now. Thanks for partyin' with Golden Line Services and all that. Man, my dudes I need a drink. One more hour my dudes, one more hour…"

"Not a heavy drinker myself," Touma remarked.

"Neither am I. Still, if that is what you enjoy then by all means enjoy it. Responsibly of course," Misaki added.

The taxi's driver nodded his head enthusiastically, causing his dark, shaggy hair to bounce about. "Yeah, my dude! No drinkin' and drivin' man! That's not cool. Players who drink and drive can drink my pee."

Finding themselves amused by their eccentric driver, Kamijou Misaki and Kamijou Touma with Othinus in hand clambered out of the vehicle's back seat; Touma gently shut the vehicle's door behind him, ensuring that it was successfully locked in place, and that it had closed properly.

Their apartment complex was only some ten or fifteen feet away; the married couple's apartment itself was only a few floors above them.

The two looked to one another and nodded in a moment of raw mutual understanding.

The race was on. Practically bursting through the front entranceway's door, the married couple rushed to the lobby's elevator. Touma repeatedly jammed the nearest button that would call the elevator to the lobby, as Misaki lost all control. She grabbed at her husband's crotch before she forced herself to step away from him, taking slow, deep breaths.

"I feel like I am going to break," Misaki remarked. "You are the only person who could ever do this to me, Touma."

Touma seemed to be in a state of relative distress, himself. "It's taking all of my concentration not to do disgusting things to you right here and now."

After a period of tense waiting, an elevator came to the married couple's rescue. The shaft's doors split open, grinding and moaning as they did so. Kamijou Touma, with Othinus cupped in his hands, and Kamijou Misaki hurriedly stepped into the elevator car; Misaki commanded the car to travel to the floor on which their apartment was located by repeatedly jamming her right hand's index finger into the corresponding button on the elevator's panel.

Once the doors slid closed, and the elevator's car began to steadily rise, Misaki rubbed her form against her husband, softly, affectionately kissing his neck. Though his hands were occupied due to being used as a makeshift cot by the slumbering Othinus, Touma did his best to run his lips over his beloved's forehead, repeatedly leaving kisses behind; his wife adored each one, and each brought her further and further into her personal Heaven on Earth.

The elevator's doors slid open one final time, revealing the hallway of the floor on which the married couple's apartment was located. Both rushed towards their home's doorway as if they were being chased by some abomination from a deeply horrifying nightmare.

Misaki produced her keys and fiddled with the door's lock, eventually managing to slide her key in. Turning it to the side, she pushed the door open and nearly stumbled into she and her husband's home; her vision remained stable, but her very body felt tense, as if she was experiencing withdrawal symptoms.

In a manner of speaking, Misaki was. Throbbing, her womanhood ached, loudly demanding to be satisfied.

Before anything else would occur, there was something that had to be done, and both Kamijou Misaki and Kamijou Touma knew it.

Kicking off her footwear, Misaki looked to her lover and blushed, her right eyebrow raised a few inches higher than her left.

"We should probably pay the bathroom a visit, Touma; brush up."

Removing his own trainers, Touma produced a soft chuckle. "Uh huh. Definitely, let's scrub ourselves clean, beautiful."

The married couple did exactly that. Paying a visit to their home's bathroom, both Misaki and Touma shared the ornate, porcelain sink, thoroughly cleansing their respective mouths with their own toothbrushes, covered in wads of whitening toothpaste, and their own cups of water, which was obtained from the sink's faucet.

After thoroughly applying floss, and rinsing with mouthwash which was poured into their cups liberally, Kamijou Misaki looked to her husband, who had retrieved Othinus from the side of the tub; soft and protected from the cold porcelain surface by a folded-up carpet Touma had set there for her, the tiny fairy looked to be having some pleasant dream, as her lips had curled upwards, into a smile.

"I will be eagerly awaiting your arrival in our bedroom. You are still feeling up to having a little, ahem, quality time, no? If you are not, Touma, do not be afraid to speak up. I would not mind simply spending some more 'innocent' time with you as opposed to something less 'innocent'. Or we could do something separate from one another if that is what you are feeling like. Talk to me, husband, let me know what you want to do. There is no wrong answer, okay? Speak your heart to me."

Kamijou Touma softly kissed his beloved on her forehead, pushing her hair's fringe to the side with his left hand's fingers. "I know there isn't a wrong answer; I'd never have a reason to be afraid to say what's got to be said. I swear, beautiful. You know exactly what I want to do… if you want it that is. I want you, I want anything but to be apart from you… that didn't sound too clingy, did it?

"Okay here, I'll try something more alpha. You are NOT prepared; so, uh… erm… prepare yourself, beautiful. I hope you have your estate in order. That was terrible and I feel ashamed, as I should. Looks like it's this poor Kamijou-san who needs to have his estate in order."

Misaki closed the distance between herself and her husband. After finally kissing him on the lips, subsequently soothing an internal craving, Misaki spoke her own piece.

"Clingy"? No; do not try to be anyone but yourself, my Prince. I am in love with Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Touma alone. As for your "alpha" statement, I will 'prepare' myself indeed. You might need to do the same."

Winking at her husband, Kamijou Misaki took her leave from the apartment's bathroom, quite swiftly, and with an almost deadly-seeming purpose, hips seductively swaying from side to side. Kamijou Touma took his leave as well, though rather than heading straight to he and his lover's bedroom, he made a detour; cupped in the palms of his hands, Othinus had wrapped her tiny arms around her "jailer's" thumbs.

Coming to a stop before the miniature mansion that served as a home much more suited to Othinus' unique size, Touma cupped the tiny, former Magic God's form in his left hand as he lifted the mansion's roof away from its walls with his right.

Within the mansion, an almost innumerable series of rooms were revealed; these were merely the rooms on the highest floor of the mansion. Given that the mansion had many floors, there must've been hundreds of individual rooms; perhaps the packaging hadn't been lying after all.

He rested the mansion's roof against the floor, and then proceeded to pull back the ornate covers of the first bed he found within the mansion's highest floor; there was more than one luxuriously-decorated bedroom on the floor, and more than one self-sufficient, completely functional bathroom as well.

Gently placing Othinus' slumbering form within the bedding and then covering her up, Touma patted the top of the former Magic God's head with his index finger.

"Sleep tight, Othi-chan. We love you. See you in the morning."

Touma slid the mansion's roof back into place, as gently and as quietly as he could, hoping that he wouldn't wake the fairy that rested within, who was dreaming her little fairy dreams.

From the couch, Sphynx watched on. Quickly, however, the scene grew boring, especially once "the man" had taken his leave. The feline yawned and settled itself back into is perch on the backrest of the living room's couch, quietly purring to itself.

He quickly closed the distance between himself and the door that lead into he and his wife's bedroom, their paradise and their escape from the world around them, a place where two could become one.

Gently pushing the door open and looking into the room, Touma's vision moved from left to right. The scent of his wife's beauty products struck him head-on like a freight train barrelling into a boulder that'd been placed on its tracks. Travelling through his nostrils, the smell was intoxicating; Touma likened it to a cross between strawberries and green apples. He could almost drink the smell like the finest wine, if such a thing was possible, which unfortunately for Touma it simply wasn't.

For a moment he contemplated mixing together two different flavors of fruit punch, strawberry and green apple, with the goal of creating some drinkable abomination that would've made Dr. Frankenstein proud.

"Stay right there my Prince, don't come any closer; I have a surprise here for you. I will just need a few moments more to prepare it… I think you are going to be quite fond of what I have thrown together for you."

Closing his eyes, Kamijou Touma took a few steps back, and leaned against the outer wall of he and his beloved's paradise. Folding his arms across his chest, he felt a small grin tug at the sides of his face, his lips curling upwards to form it.

"Alright, beautiful. I'm waiting; just let me know when my surprise is ready."

For some few moments, Touma did exactly that. He patiently waited as the sounds of fabric being moved about became audible. Their bedroom's closet could be heard closing once, twice, and then a third time. He found enjoyment in simply listening to his beloved go about her business in their bedroom; the sound of her cute little feet pitter-pattering about sent shivers down Touma's spine, and the creaks of the floor brought Touma a sense of satisfaction that he couldn't quite explain.

"You may come in, baby. Everything is ready for you; all you have to do is come and get it."

His lover's voice had become audible. Soft and welcoming, Misaki's vocalizations caressed Touma's ears and laid so many proverbial kisses upon them.

Through the bedroom door Kamijou Touma walked, with anticipation and excitement alive in his heart, and with a bulge in the crotch of his pants; he couldn't have blamed said bulge on an inappropriate-looking crease if he tried or wanted to.

The sight before him was one that made the bulge in Touma's pants to expand, and caused his eyelids to noticeably move farther from one another. Kamijou Touma's jaw hung agape, his lips parted as soon as he'd laid eyes upon the glorious sight.

Misaki had brought out that glorious, wonderful reproduction of Tokiwadai Middle School's winter uniform; she certainly knew her husband well.

The reproduction had obviously been purchased from an adult establishment that had a fine taste in adult-oriented clothing. It clung to his wife's curvy hourglass-shaped form, its buttoned-up top highlighting her exceedingly ample bosom. Accented by her own light-colored stockings, the reproduction uniform was driving Kamijou Touma to the edge of madness, and threatened to violently push him over it.

Resting her right hand on her hip, Kamijou Misaki tossed her head to the side, which caused her long, honey-colored hair to flow like the currents of a river. Her golden, starry eyes looked into her husband's own as her lips curled upwards into a small, seductive grin.

"Do you like what you see my Prince? Even if it is not the original, this uniform brings back so many… lovely memories. Do you not agree? Also, I truly must ask; why are you still clothed? Please get yourself undressed, husband."

"U-uh huh, s-sorry. Just let me pick my jaw up off the floor. This was a s-surprise alright. I hope you're ready for the storm that's coming, beautiful, because I'm not going to be holding back even a little bit."

While her husband did as he'd been told with almost frantic speed, Kamijou Misaki tossed herself back onto she and her lover's bed. The sheets crinkled and shifted beneath her as the coils of the mattress created a series of sharp metallic noises. She reached either of her bare hands down towards her womanhood; pulling the reproduction uniform's skirt upwards with her left, she began to gently massage herself with her right. Biting down on her lip, Misaki held back a moan.

Before long, Touma joined his lover. Crawling over the foot of the bed, he gently took either of Misaki's wrists into his hands, and moved her arms away. With effort, he forcibly restrained himself. He could feel the desire to become just a bit rougher than usual emerging from deep within him; but that had to be held in check. It was animalistic and savage, something that Kamijou Touma's higher mind had mastered, but hadn't quite broken.

The starry-eyed, golden-haired beauty looked up at him, smiling wide; the Imagine Breaker's Bearer smiled back and it only grew. Like she was some sort of holy treasure, the very sight of Kamijou Misaki helped to break the beast within him, forcing it to flee back into the dark, primal den from which it'd emerged.

He leaned in. Slowly but surely Touma lowered himself, his lips set to connect with those of his lover; then, two sets of lips became one, and as if she was a prey animal trapped beneath the weight of a predator, Kamijou Misaki feverishly threw her arms around her husband's waist.

Clawing at his back, she moaned and grunted like a savage; her husband wasn't any quieter. As his tongue connected with his wife's, within her mouth, Touma aggressively groaned. Either of his hands found their way to his lover's hips, to which they grasped onto; the soft fabric of the skirt of Misaki's reproduction uniform folded and creased beneath Touma's fingers, causing chills to rush down his spine.

Parting from her husband, Misaki panted like a dog trapped within a car in eighty-degree weather. Her heart slammed within her repeatedly, her face growing redder with each second that passed the married couple by.

"T-Touma… I want to suck your cock again. I want to swallow load after load of your delicious sperm again! Will you go down on me too? C-can you make me cum? I want to cum very badly, and that tongue of yours… that tongue of yours drives me up the WALL! I think I might need to forcibly silence myself, my moans will wake this entire building. Fuck me too. Please fuck me?"

"Who am I to try and stop you?" Touma rhetorically inquired. "There're some things I wouldn't mind, uh, trying out with you later either. Only if you're up for it of course."

Suddenly, Kamijou Touma felt something rubbing against his leg. Soft and silky, it poked him numerous times before it began to stroke his skin. Long, and gentle, the stroking sensation brought an odd sense of satisfaction to the young man, causing his upper body to shiver.

Looking downwards, further away from his erect member, Kamijou Misaki's left foot, stocking-clad was the source of the sensation. Turning his vision back to his lover, Touma saw Misaki wink knowingly.

"There is no set schedule for our lovemaking, husband. They are all for you and only for you, do whatever you see fit with them whenever you feel the need to do so. Maybe you should tell me a little bit more about this interest of yours. It is not something that you have often indulged in after all. There is no need to feel ashamed, nor should you feel that you are some kind of a "deviant" for being interested in certain parts of your wife's body, you know. I have done my research and the little kink I believe you might just possess is in fact one of, if not the most common of all."

Touma quietly chuckled. Cupping his wife's cheeks in either of his hands, he kissed her forehead before he rolled over, laying himself next to her. Misaki adjusted her position and looked into her lover's eyes, the blush present on her face changing in coloration, from crimson to a light shade of pink.

"You're so gorgeous," Touma remarked. "But I'm sure you already know that. I blabber about it enough for it to have been drilled into your head a long time ago; I just can't say it enough Misaki. You're so beautiful."

"And you are so very, very, VERY handsome," Misaki responded, voice full of unconditional, unending love for her spouse.

"Listen, though, it does feel weird. I don't know why, you're completely right just like you always are, about it just being another part of your body… but I mean, you getting me off with your… erm, f-feet is what some people would consider normal. I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore. I think I really fucked myself up by repressing all of this sexual stuff when we were younger. Sorry, beautiful, I don't want to be a drag or anything…"

"Hush," Misaki lovingly spoke after she'd pecked her husband on his lips.

"Hush, my Prince. You have nothing to apologize for and you are anything but a 'drag'. You need to stop being so very critical of yourself; I agree, there is a lot that you have repressed but now is the time that we can bring it out, if that is what you wish to do. We can unearth it and together we can explore what you understandably hid away. I will not hurt you, I will never hurt you, I swear on my very life and soul that I will never hurt you! Touma, I love you! All I want is for you to be content."

Touma opened his arms, and almost frantically took his beloved spouse into an embrace. Pulling her close to his toned naked form, the flesh stretched over his well-muscled arms rubbed against the soft, silky fabric of the reproduction uniform Misaki was clad in. Misaki quickly returned the affectionate action; holding her husband as tightly as she possibly could, she buried her face in his well-muscled chest and repeatedly placed kiss after kiss.

"I love you too, beautiful," Touma spoke, softly. "So, so much."

Suddenly, Kamijou Misaki locked eyes with Kamijou Touma. Pulling herself upwards, aligning her own line of vision with her husband's, a mischievous grin formed on her face, as her lips curled upwards.

"I have an idea… I love how muscular you are. It is so wonderful to be held by you; but, for now, I am going to have to distance myself just a bit."

Touma's grip on his spouse was relinquished, albeit rather reluctantly. As if she'd detected his reluctance, Misaki placed a soft kiss on her husband's forehead, before she moved herself away from his form.

Eyelids parting from one another, Touma's pupils began to dilate as the sensation of his beloved's silky bare palms wrapping around his erect manhood surged throughout him, as if floodgates that'd been holding back an entire ocean had suddenly been lifted.

It was nearly impossible for the young man not to notice his wife's long majestic legs, and those forbidden extremities that were attached to them; Misaki had sprawled her lower limbs out a few feet away from her lover's head so that they could be easily reached by him, should the desire to do so arise. Touma was quick to pick up on Misaki's strategy.

As she gently worked her husband's manhood up and down with her hands, Kamijou Misaki looked to Kamijou Touma with adoration in her eyes. After tossing her bangs and her hair's fringe away with a swift whip of her neck, Misaki spoke in a soft, hushed, and almost perverted tone.

"Does that feel good baby? I hope it feels good. Just tell me if you would like for me to go faster or slower, or if you would like for me to exercise greater gentleness. Whenever you feel the need, go ahead and cum for me, just cum. I'll clean it aaallll up with my cute little mouth and tongue, and I'll swallow all of it, as much of it as you give to me. Feel free to do whatever you would like to me in the meantime; or you can simply lay back and enjoy yourself. It is completely up to you. Do not let yourself get too worked up, however; this is just a warm-up exercise."

Touma's body shivered with each soft, gentle motion his wife made with her hands. "I o-only want to cum for you Ojou-Sama."

Misaki continued with her work, smiling all the while. Occasionally, she would press her lips against, and leave a passionate kiss on his manhood.

"Good boy."

There was a choice to make, and there was only one man who could make that choice.

Would he forever be a slave to the repression of the past, a time in which he well and truly had to repress such things? He'd felt that way at the time; whether or not he truly 'had' to repress anything was up in the air, a matter of philosophy.

Kamijou Touma was in no position to engage in some philosophical debate with his higher mind; the young man barely even knew what was real. As his lover worked his erect manhood with such tender care, he could hardly contain himself. Touma could hear low, pleasured moans fleeing from his lips. He had no control over them as they were released of their own accord, following their own agenda. When Misaki would kiss the tip of his manhood, or lick and kiss his manhood's shaft, Touma's form would buck as pleasure crashed over him.

He felt good. He felt great, amazing even. Was there even a good reason to try and hide from such feelings? With this woman, the woman he was so deeply in love with, the woman who he'd been so happily married to for half a decade, Kamijou Touma was completely safe; he could be as free as he wished to be without consequence.

The choice was made. Either of his arms stretched outwards, reaching towards his beloved's sweet, perfect legs. Touma's hands found themselves wrapping around Misaki's right leg, the closest to his form. Over Kamijou Misaki's leg's stocking his palms moved up and down, slowly, as if Kamijou Touma was working the clay of some grand artistic piece.

Misaki had taken notice. A semi-restrained moan fled her lips as she worked, the searing blush upon her face deepening in coloration with every second that passed her by.

"That feels s-so goooooood. Please don't stop... T-Touma, please keep touching me, it feels so GOOD!"

With his head travelling freely of its own accord, lips moving in for the kill, Kamijou Touma let loose the desire he'd once held prisoner so long ago, perhaps rightfully so; there was no more reason to reign it in and beat it into submission. Responsibility and lovemaking could evidently be balanced. There was no harm that would come of this moment, none at all. Kamijou Misaki would never judge him.

Kissing his spouse's right leg, slowly but surely working his way down, Touma's heart began to repeatedly, quickly rise and crash, as if it was some ceremonial war-drum being beaten by a brutish subhuman savage. Pushing himself onwards, Touma made the transition, allowing both his hands and his lips to move down to the unknown territory below the ankle of his wife's right leg.

Both of Touma's hands cupped the sole of the forbidden extremity, and his lips found themselves placing long, passionate kisses to the top of it. The soft fabric of the stocking brushed gently against his lips and sent a series of shivers throughout the young man's entire form. Against the side of Touma's face the other forbidden extremity joined its comrade, softly and gently brushing against him.

Kamijou Touma's eyes had closed, and, completely beyond controlling himself, he continuously produced low moans that vaguely resembled a series of deep and guttural growls. Kamijou Touma was in Heaven. Being beneath his wife's cute little feet was like shooting up some addictive drug. Anxiousness was tossed away as Touma embraced the truth of the matter.

He was a filthy, disgusting fetishist; and that was okay. Even if he was a filthy, disgusting fetishist, Kamijou Misaki wouldn't judge him for it. What he and his lover did in their paradise remained in their paradise, business conducted between two individuals who adored one another.

"You are throbbing," Misaki commented.

"I love having this big cock of yours in my hands, and I love it even more when it throbs for me while I am holding it. I wonder, could this be related to the enjoyment that you are finding down there?"

Winking knowingly, the beauty with the honey-colored hair began to steadily increase the speed in which her hands moved upwards and downwards.

Below, what had started as soft and shy, but quite passionate kissing had become feverish and unrestrained tongue play. The top of his beloved's stocking-clad right foot was plastered with the secretions produced by his salivary glands. As he moved his tongue about, Touma massaged the extremity, both with his hands and with his lips.

He suddenly seized up like a machine whose gears had stopped grinding. Touma flung his head back and clenched his teeth.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck, fuck…" Touma babbled incoherently.

"Fuck I'm gonna…"

inhaling, the young man's body writhed as a tingling sensation arose in his lower body.

"I'm gonna cum."

"Let it all out for me! Cum for me, cum for me! I want to swallow every last drop! You big-cocked, musclebound, perfect man! Cum all over me!" Misaki exclaimed, enthusiasm evident in her tone of voice.

Taking back her feet, Kamijou Misaki frantically used both extremities to accomplish her goal with deadly precision; as he'd announced, Kamijou Touma did exactly that. He reached back and grabbed a nearby pillow as he nearly hit the ceiling of he and his wife's bedroom. Placing it over his face, something that resembled a hybrid of a scream and a pleasured moan fled from Touma's lips. The noise was dulled by the cool, soft surface of the pillow, his vocalization emerging completely unrestrained.

Tossing the pillow away, Kamijou Touma descended into a savage frenzy, as Kamijou Misaki happily cleaned up the mess his manhood had produced, her tongue sliding gently over his skin, her lips leaving behind soft, affectionate kisses.

"Misaki. Misaki, Misaki, Misaki. Hi Misaki," Touma muttered. "That felt really good wow I'm not done though. Do you want more beautiful I think I want more I know I want more? Only if you want it though I don't want to pressure you I love you a lot wow my heart is beating too fast."

After completing the task she'd set out to complete, Misaki looked up at her husband, starry, golden eyes peering into his dark irises. She smirked in an almost perverted manner, while she ran her bare fingers over Touma's skin.

"Hi baby. Take deep breaths, I know how excited you can get when you finally climax. I love you too. Of course, I want more if you want more. What exactly did you have in mind?"

Breathing a sigh, Touma moved his recently-cleaned form close to his wife's. Wrapping his arms around her own form, clad in her partially-soiled reproduction uniform, he leaned in and pressed his lips to her right ear. In response, Misaki's arms were thrown around her husband's back, her embrace tightening with each second that passed the married couple by.

"I w-want to have you raw, so badly, I want to feel you more than anything, without any sort of protection in the way," Touma muttered, "but I know I can't. Not until… if…"

"I know, baby. I know. Let me get undressed, I want to be free with you."

Parting quite reluctantly from his beloved, Touma, after stepping down from their bed, moved towards their bedroom's closet, and began to dig around for a short period of time. After Misaki had shed her clothing, having tossed the individual pieces of the reproduction uniform to the ground at the foot of their bed, she fell back into the piece of furniture's soft, comforting surface, propping her head against the pillow her husband had used to stifle his pleasured vocalization; it was still quite warm.

Touma emerged from the closet with protection in hand. Placing the 'Tower Shield', brand protection, bound within its wrapper upon their bedroom's nearby dresser, the young man joined his wife.

Crawling atop her, Misaki welcomed her husband with literal open arms, her cheeks glowing a shade of bright pink, her lips curling into a wide, ecstatic smile. Their naked forms connected, and Kamijou Touma laid himself on his side.

"It might not hurt to discuss the subject of a little one at further length, if that is what you feel like discussing," Misaki remarked, softly. "Unless you would like actions to speak louder than either of our respective words ever could."

Taking his spouse's right hand into his left, Touma held Misaki's hand close to his heart; beneath her palm, Misaki could feel it steady, rhythmically beating; its pace had returned to a normal one.

"We've… beautiful, I think we've been dancing around the subject lately. Well, I have. I've been brushing it o…"

"No, you were correct the first time, my sunshine," Misaki interjected. "I too have been all too willingly dancing around the subject, as you so accurately put it."

"I don't really feel like there's a whole lot of choices for us," Touma spoke; his voice was soft. Not necessarily week, or even meek. His tone was simply one that was gentle.

"Neither of us know what would happen if we decided to conceive while Imagine Breaker is in my hand. I don't even know if there's a way to get rid of it, I've thought about it before… but every time it's left before it's always come back.

"Remember all that, way back when with the Rookie? If it was possible to get rid of this thing, Imagine Breaker, you'd think it would've been gone back then."

Looking deeply into his spouse's eyes, Touma took a long, deep breath.

"But I do have an idea, beautiful. I mentioned that earlier today, and I wasn't lying or talking out of my ass. I know we have a lot to talk about before we can make that big of a step, but it's something I feel is important."

Misaki affectionately rubbed her nose against Touma's own. "I did not believe you to be doing either. I would like to hear it if you would be willing to tell me about it… I also agree that this is a serious and important subject, one which deserves not to be skimmed over as we've been doing.

"You would obviously like to have a little one, which I am absolutely pleased about; I would like nothing more than to be the mother of our child; to have the opportunity to give someone, a human being formed of our love together the life that neither you or I had, a life of relative normalcy would be the ultimate gift."

Kamijou Touma took a long, deep breath. His beloved's words had brought so many emotions, so much deep feeling clawing at the surface of his higher mind. Looking his wife in the eyes, he spoke his piece even as his throat began to perpetually tighten. "Have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?"

Nodding, Misaki continued to observe her spouse's facial features; his eyes and lips she kept an eye on. Both seemed to be different than they usually were; Touma's eyes appeared to be much moister, while his lips had curled strangely. Quietly, she listened on as her husband continued.

"Well, okay… erm, hear me out beautiful."

"I do not doubt you, husband, not in the slightest. My mind is open."

Touma raised his beloved's hand to his lips, and placed a kiss to the top of it, his eyelids slowly closing shut as he did so. Keeping Misaki's hand close to his face, Touma awkwardly chuckled, and pushed to continue from where he'd left off.

"I was thinking this: if I could lucid dream; I've done it before by accident, if that's the right word for it and I could probably do it again if I followed someone's instructions, I don't quite know who'd know about that sort of thing off hand, and I'd rather not follow some guide posted up on the Internet. I'm sure someone knows how to trigger it. I know it's something of a longshot, but if I could try and 'reach out' to Imagine Breaker, or whatever it is that's in my hand I might be able to communicate with it… and ask it to leave. Maybe we could come to a compromise of some sort, who knows?"

To Kamijou Touma's surprise, Kamijou Misaki nodded in apparent understanding. Placing the palms of her hands to either of her husband's cheeks, the beauty with the lips of the honey-colored hair curled upwards, and she smiled warmly at him.

"It would not hurt to try. Even if our previous attempts at making contact have failed I am willing to continue trying for as long as we must. In the meantime, there is much to discuss in the way of what such an endeavor would entail… I believe everyone in the family should have a say, however; both Index and Othinus should have the chance to voice their respective feelings."

Stretching his arms upwards and his legs downwards, Touma produced a series of guttural vocalizations. "For sure, beautiful. I think Index will be on board from the word go, and as for Othi-chan… I'm not quite sure what Othi-chan thinks about the idea. I wonder if she'll sign up to be first in line as the "cool big sister?"

Kamijou Misaki found herself suddenly giggling at the idea of the word 'big' being used to describe Othinus; she also imagined the look on the tiny, fairy-fied former Magic God's face, and it only fueled proverbial giggle-fire.

"Touma, you and I will find a way, as we always have and always will. It might take time, but we will find a way or we will make one. You know… in the spirit of promoting fertility, if you are still feeling up to it, I know I certainly am…"

Almost instantly, the Imagine Breaker's Bearer had leapt up from the bed; he was moving towards the dresser. Misaki couldn't quite stifle a flattered giggle at the sight. Retrieving and then hastily unwrapping the 'Tower Shield', Touma carefully slid himself into his protection.

"Yes, yes I am."

"Then what is this?! What was this doing in my bed?! Don't even try and say that they're mine, because these aren't even my size!"

"Honey, please, let's just…"

"Don't you DARE "honey" me, Satoru! Why are you still doing this?! Haven't you done enough to us?! Do you only th…"

Hamazura Shiage had pressed his thumb down upon the 'A' button of the small, white controller that sat to his left, after he'd fished it out; it'd somehow managed to nearly get itself caught up in the bedsheets. Moving his shaggy, dirty blonde hair's fringe from his eyes with his available right hand, he readjusted his position on the bed, his form only half-covered by the bed's sheets.

Craning his neck to his left, Shiage looked to the form of Hamazura Rikou. Her facial expression was one of skepticism; with her form bundled up in the comforter and sheets they shared, only her head and its shoulder-length, charcoal-colored hair was visible. Rikou's right eyebrow was raised as her eyes, whose irises matched the color of her hair stared on awkwardly at the paused scene before her.

"I thought this was supposed to be a comedy. How is this funny?! I'm not missing anything here am I? This is just a series of traumatic events occurring to this one group of people, one after the other! Seriously! How is this funny?! This should be some type of tragedy. We've been duped!"

"It's not, and we have," Rikou spoke, answering her husband's question. "This is nonsense. The only part that was even remotely entertaining was when Satoru mistook an orphanage for a bank, somehow, and for some reason. That slow pan over the children just broke my heart though. It's like the director is some kind of sadist."

"Y'know? We clearly just don't get it. We're not smart enough. There's some deep artistic vision that's gone far above our heads. In favor of tuning into something more suited for us plebeians, say "I." Shiage nodded, as if to affirm his own statement.

Rolling her eyes, Rikou sank deeper into her cocoon and produced a soft vocalization before she spoke. "Speak for yourself, you goof."

As if compelled by some outside force, Hamazura Shiage suddenly moved in for the kill. Worming is way beneath the same section of their bed's sheets that his lover had cocooned herself in, he set upon her like a wild animal; the soft and tender kisses he placed on the side of Hamazura Rikou's neck were only mildly anticlimactic.

"S-Shiage," Rikou softly scolded. "D-Daichi-chan is asleep, don't make so much noise. Y-you're grunting like an old dog."

Shiage relented and did as his wife asked of him, but he continued his ravaging of Rikou's body nonetheless. "Chill, our little man had a busy day; he won't wake up 'til morning. He was out before he even hit the pillow. He's dreamin' about Mister Darkpants and Mister Kabuto. 'Sides, remember last time? We're just playfighting."

Tossing her head back, Hamazura Rikou had to begin practicing what she'd just preached. As her husband worked her, his soft lips and stubble-covered face brushing against the side of her neck, a moan threatened to flee her own lips.

Suddenly, he stopped. Rising, Shiage relinquished his proverbial feast of flesh and looked deeply into Rikou's eyes. With her head propped up by the numerous pillows that'd previously boosted her back, Rikou's saliva-plastered neck relaxed.

"Neh? What's on your mind? You're giving me that goofy look. Something's going through that thick head of yours, isn't it?"

Shiage smirked while he spoke his piece. "Want to put on the suit?"

Of course that's what he wanted; to the woman who'd been by this man's side for just over a decade, first as his girlfriend, and as his deeply contented wife in the present, Hamazura Shiage was a predictable man, an open book waiting to be skimmed through, a text full of dark and nasty little secrets, of which she was the sole keeper.

Playfully shoving her husband away from her form, causing him to laugh heartily, Rikou rolled over on her side as she cocooned herself one again.

"I'm really tired. I'll help you get off if you want, but I don't have the energy for anything too crazy. Besides, you already had your fun with dressing me up, dirtbag. Be grateful."

Shiage nodded in understanding. Tossing himself back into the position he'd risen from, the young man folded his arms behind his head, balancing them against the metallic headboard.

"Yeah, that's cool as ice, we're tight. You want to put something else on WebPix or do you just wanna sleep? I'm cool either way man. I wouldn't mind catching some zees if you wanna."

"You can watch something else if you want," Rikou spoke, yawning as she did so. "It won't keep me up. Let me snuggle up to you though, you're warm."

"Would I ever say no? Bring that thang over here gurl."

"Nn. You're so annoying. You're lucky I love you."

Despite her words, which had brought another round of laughter out of Shiage, Hamazura Rikou spun herself to her right, and wormed her way towards Hamazura Shiage, whose waist she threw her arms around. With her numerous pillows beneath her head, Rikou nuzzled them, feeling their softness beneath her, loving every second of the sensation. Shiage's hand had found itself placed upon Rikou's shoulder, which he began to gently massage.

"Noight, mate."

Hamazura Shiage's attempt at an English accent was less than stellar; regardless, Hamazura Rikou found herself quietly giggling.

"That feels good, really good, good night… you bloody bloke."


	22. Married With Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to announce that we're moving into Times Change's next story arc. Welcome one, and welcome all to what I've decided to refer to as the "Family Matters Arc". There could be a lot more to this title than you might think!

October 10th, 2014. 9:13 AM.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter pitter-pitter patter-patter.

Knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock. Patter.

The sounds, the sounds of tiny, semi-solid objects repeatedly hitting the surface of the large window, obscured by a woolen curtain above her bed weren't a new source of stimuli to Hamazura Rikou, nor had they woken her from her slumber in the first place; she still wasn't sure as to exactly what had woken her up. Though she found herself alone in she and her husband's bed, this wasn't particularly concerning; her beloved goofball wouldn't be too far.

Rolling over on her side, Rikou looked to the nightstand to the right of she and her husband's bed. Facing her was a small metallic alarm clock, with large, bright orange numbers visible on its small rectangular display.

According to the clock, it was 9:13 AM; Rikou had overslept, evidently.

Very little light flooded in between the small, barely-noticeable areas in which the woolen curtain was separated from the windowpane itself; the natural light that did enter through these spaces was dull and wasn't particularly warm.

It was rain; not a particularly heavy rain, just enough to keep her family indoors, at least until the storm (if the light rain could even be called that) cleared.

Maybe it would clear, or maybe it wouldn't. Unfortunately for her, Hamazura Rikou couldn't predict the future, and she wasn't about to dress up in a tribal outfit to pray to the sun god.

"Ooga booga!" her own voice echoed inside of her head; Rikou began to giggle by herself, the palms of her hands running over the warm side of the bed where her husband, her Hamazura Shiage had slept.

She really had spent too much time with him; she'd long ago turned into a goofball, the same kind of goofball he was. Hamazura Rikou had become Hamazura-y.

Still, the light rain beyond the walls of she and her family's home wasn't of concern to Rikou, and, by the sounds of it, it wasn't too concerning for Hamazura Daichi, either.

Judging by where the sound of his sweet, adorable little voice was coming from, Rikou's precious little bundle of positivity was in his big sister's room. Given that Rikou could actually hear the boy, this obviously meant that her beautiful daughter Fremea was already awake.

"In THIS place, creatures called 'dragons' aren't just some myth told around campfires to scare kids into behaving. They're all too real for the people who live here," Daichi spoke, quite formerly, as if he was the narrator of a documentary, his voice oddly and forcibly deepened.

As always, Hamazura Rikou was silently impressed by the five-year-old boy's vocabulary and understanding of the world around him.

What exactly was he up to? Rikou rolled further, fully onto her side, propping her head up beneath her arm. As her lips curled into a small smile, she listened to her son's narration.

"And here we see one now! If you take a close look at him, he's quite large. His wingspend is enormus! It looks like he might be eating something now. Maybe we can get closer and see what the great, big dragon is eating. Let's go slowly now… don't want to startle him!

"Dragons mostly eat lots of meat because it makes them strong and helps to keep the germs out. They have to drink water too, because if they don't, they'll get thirsty. Even if they drink lots of water, the dragons can still breathe fire! They have big sacks in their throats that get very hot, and then fire comes out! Like Shizuri-nee when she gets mad. Eheheh, Shizuri-nee is funny… sometimes they'll make fire to scare their enemies. Sometimes they make fire when they want to get a girlfriend or a boyfriend too! How romantic!"

Stretching her form, Rikou rose from she and her husband's bed, quietly moaning as her muscles flexed, and as her bones produced a series of satisfying cracks, each of which brought more relief than the last.

Throwing either of her legs over the edge of the bed, Rikou lifted herself from its warm, comforting surface, the bare soles of her feet touching the oddly cold hardwood flooring of the bedroom. The sensation sent a series of chills rushing through Hamazura Rikou's spine, and caused her entire body to shudder awkwardly. She placed either chilled extremity into the comforting warmth of a nearby fuzzy slipper.

The young woman groggily made her way towards the bedroom's closed door, and the synthetic, golden light that leaked beneath the small space between the bottom of the door and the flooring. Her torso was clad in a dark, baggy and sleeveless shirt, while her legwear consisted of a pair of booty shorts, which she changed out of before she left she and her husband's bedroom. The less than family-friendly choice of legwear was replaced with warm flannel pants, the bottoms of which completely covered either of Rikou's feet.

Stepping out into the second floor's hallway, Hamazura Rikou passed the second floor's bathroom by as she made her way towards the oaken staircase which lead to the first floor of the family's home. With slow, careful steps, Rikou descended the staircase, her right hand gripping the railing. A part of the young woman wanted to return to she and her husband's bed and sleep the day away; but that would be little more than a waste of a wonderful opportunity to spend time with her family.

In the end, the more realistic and energetic part of Rikou's brain won out, pushing her inner sloth back to the cavernous hole from which it had crawled out from.

Once she'd descended the staircase, and placed either of her oddly cold hands into the pockets of her pants, Rikou listened intently, and curiously. The television in the sitting room was on, with some program of unknown origin being broadcasted. A low, monotonous voice spoke in a formal manner, as if they were addressing a boardroom of suited professional individuals.

She recognized small clusters of words spoken together, forming partially coherent sentences; "military-grade", "assault rifle" and "dozens of casualties, including eight children" were among the recognized words and phrases.

Something clicked inside of the young woman's tired mind, and realization set in. She quickly put two and two together, and a part of her became rather frustrated with her stubborn bullhead of a husband.

He really was his own worst enemy.

Making a left from the staircase's lower landing, away from the nearby kitchen area and the ornate, oak-carven front door, both of which were to the right, Hamazura Rikou passed through the doorless archway which lead into the sitting room.

There, she caught Hamazura Shiage in the act.

"Shiage," Rikou hissed, a bit more aggressively than she'd wanted to. Instantaneously, she felt remorse wash over her like a tidal wave crashing upon sands. Acting aggressively wasn't supportive, nor would it help anything.

The young woman made her way towards her husband, who was seated upon one of the sitting room's three large couches, constructed of sturdy metallic frames and bound with soft, brightly-colored fabric. Shiage stared intently at the screen of the television, mounted upon the easternmost wall, its screen displaying a news broadcast. He was clad in a simplistic set of matching plaid pajamas, their sleeves and legs, respectively, quite long.

A few delayed moments following the uttering of his lover's vocalization, Shiage jumped, and whipped his head around to face her. He almost looked as if he was guilty; he awkwardly grinned in her direction.

The paleness of his face made Rikou's heart throb.

Quickly seating herself next to her husband, Hamazura Rikou first turned the television off by pressing the small red button on its remote, and then took Hamazura Shiage into her arms and pulled him close. She repeatedly placed warm kisses, full of affection and understanding upon the top of her husband's head, speaking in a way that she never could with mere words.

"Shiage. You know you're not supposed to be watching these things by yourself. Look at you, you're as white as a sheet."

"Morbid curiosity," Shiage remarked. Though deep and steady as always, Rikou could detect a hint of unease in her beloved's voice. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide from her, not for very long.

"You're not wrong though, it's not an excuse. I just… I finished doing some stuff, got the kitchen, first bathroom. Just wanted a rest, you know? Sat down, turned on the idiot box, and there it was. Still, I shouldn't have left it on and I know it. You've told me, Fremmie's told me, and Dr. Highlander's told me… in the end, I guess Kinuhata's right. I can be pretty Hamazura-y at times. Nah, nah; I am Hamazura-y."

Rikou lovingly lowered her husband, bringing him even closer to her, and rested the back of his head in her lap. She smiled warmly as she ran the tips of her fingers through her beloved's shaggy, sand-colored hair.

"So am I. I'm Hamazura-y too. Being Hamazura-y isn't a bad thing, I'm proud to identify as someone who's Hamazura-y. Why don't you tell me what you saw? What upset you? If you talk about it, you'll get it off your chest, and out of your head. Don't start obsessing, okay? I'm here to listen."

Shiage nodded in agreement, clearly enjoying the lap pillow Rikou provided for him. He raised his arm, and rested his hand on his lover's shoulder, gently massaging it.

"It was… it was fucked up, man. Some maniac in Baggage City just… you know how it ended. Suicide attack, this… this psycho, this animal had military-grade gear, apparently he was a veteran who'd... lost it. It's been happening so much over there, Rikou, in Europe, especially in Baggage City. There were kids…"

He closed his eyes, and produced a long, drawn-out sigh.

"I can't look at something like that and not think about you, about Fremmie, about our little man… they're our children, man. It's a sick thing to think, I get it, but that's what comes into my head. It's right fucked up."

"It's okay," Rikou cooed. "It's okay. It's a terrible tragedy that you witnessed. Being scared and upset is what any normal person would do in a situation like this, but nothing's going to happen to you or me, and nothing's going to happen to our family.

"Academy City and Japan are very different from Europe, and most certainly different from Baggage City. Shiage, you need to stop doing this to yourself. I understand that you want to know what's going on out there, but you're not the kind of person who can expose themselves to it as often as you do, and you especially can't expose yourself to these things alone! You suffer from anxiety as it is, as much as you don't want to admit it; watching that kind of disturbing brutality unfold right in front of your own eyes, even on a television screen will of course just make everything worse."

"You know, this is why I like it when you get up before me. Thanks for helping me check myself. Last think I want to do is wreck myself."

"Oh, shut up… you're obviously feeling better."

The tension dissipated as Shiage chuckled, and Rikou quietly giggled. Both forcibly shrugged off the tension that'd formed around them through their vocalizations.

The young woman ran the palms of her hands over her husband's pale cheeks, softly pinching them between either of her hands' index fingers and thumbs.

"Let's get your mind off the bad that's out there. It's awful, and I offer my thoughts and condolences to those who lost their lives, and to the families who've lost loved ones, but… there's nothing you or I can do about it, not right now. It's the way of the world, these things happen, as terrible as it is. Focusing on it will destroy you, it'll destroy anyone with a mind that functions properly. Why don't we throw some breakfast together? I heard Daichi-chan playing in his big sister's room."

Shiage managed a grin. Attempting to shrug off the panic that'd gripped the fringes of his mind, he rose, and placed a soft, loving peck upon his wife's lips.

"Works for me; let's go on a quest, then, a culinary quest. A quest of cooking. There's gotta be something we can put together to feed Gargantuan Boy. I'm feeling like I could fill the old tank up, too."

"Like father, like son. You're both Gargantuan Boys."

Both Hamazura Rikou and Hamazura Shiage fully lifted themselves from the couch upon which they'd been seated, and made their way towards the nearby kitchen area, which was separated from the sitting room by a small archway, its ornate oaken door fully opened.

As the married couple entered the room, the flooring transitioned from hardwood, colored a soft brown to tiling, light and almost chalky in coloration.

Shiage extended his arm and flicked on the lightswitch as the lights in the home's sitting room automatically switched off, no longer detecting a presence within the room that required the aid of synthetic illumination.

Though not as large as some of the kitchens the married couple had seen on those tacky home décor programs, it was their own, and that's what counted more than anything.

It wasn't overly small, nor was it lacking space to place both culinary utensils and utensils required for the consuming of food and drink. There were plenty of ornately-designed oaken cupboards and equally ornate drawers. A large, stainless metallic fridge was present within the kitchen, along with a dishwasher constructed of the same materials. A few inches away from the dishwasher was a large oven, white in coloration rather than silver. A pair of sinks were present, mounted within the dark limestone counter.

As Hamazura Shiage began to root around in the fridge, Hamazura Rikou took to preparing some basic utensils required for their culinary activities.

"Look what papa found!" Shiage remarked, as he produced a large box of chocolate chip pancake mix from within the depths of the fridge; Rikou could do little more than giggle aloud, shaking her head as she rested her face in her right hand's palm. Of course; Hamazura Shiage wouldn't have been Hamazura Shiage if he hadn't gone for the chocolate chip pancake mix. He really was Hamazura-y.

Still, she wasn't going to deny him. She couldn't; the goofy smirk on his face melted Hamazura Rikou's heart and made her want to take her husband, her Shiage into her arms, hold him close, and kiss him again and again.

"By the way, if you'll hear this lowly Hamazura out, there's something I wanted to talk with you about; it slipped my mind, what with all the excitement this weekend."

"I'm listening, Sir Goofsalot," Rikou remarked. She retrieved the box of mix from Shiage, who'd handed it over to her. As he retrieved a bowl from a cupboard above the kitchen's sinks, and then placed it down onto the counter, he spoke his piece.

"You know how the Orders to Engage Championships are next weekend, right? The sixteenth?" Shiage inquired, whether rhetorically or not Rikou couldn't quite tell. She carefully poured the required amount of mix from its box, and then water from the nearby pitcher which her husband had retrieved from the fridge, allowing the cool, clear liquid to make its way into the bowl. It began to blend almost instantaneously with the mix.

"I do," Rikou finally answered, removing herself from her trance-like state of advanced concentration.

"I also remember how Oshiro-san turned last year's Championships celebration into a nightmare… but do go on, Sir Goofsalot. I won't leap down your throat without good reason."

"We don't invite him anymore," Shiage spoke quickly, as if he was attempting to assure his wife that disaster had already been adverted. "Jayceon thought the same as you, insisted Yoshi ruined the whole thing. You probably remember that, though. Jayceon sort of lost it. That won't, or wouldn't happen again, I promise. It would just be me, Jayceon, Chin, Hanzou, maybe Accelerator if we can actually get him to come, and that's it."

"I always was fond of Jayceon," Rikou stated. "He's likely the most rational of all of your friends, excluding Kamijou-san and, well, the other Kamijou-san of course. That's really saying something. Don't worry now, just because I'm complimenting another man that doesn't mean I'm going to NTR you."

"That was my primary concern," Shiage joked. He crouched downwards, towards one of the cupboard beneath the sinks. As he balanced on his crossed legs, Rikou repeatedly patted her husband on the head, as if he was a loyal hound searching for a bone he'd buried.

Her husband dug himself into the opened section of storage space beneath the sink, and eventually reappeared from within, a blender in one hand, and the long cable that trailed out from the blender's rear held in the other. He rose and placed the utensil on the counter, away from the bowl which Rikou stirred.

Hamazura Rikou turned to Hamazura Shiage for a moment, before she returned her attention to the bowl, and the sloppy, dark-colored mixture she stirred within it, in order to physically inform her husband that he had her continued attention.

"Can we come to a compromise? I don't want to sound selfish, but I'd really prefer it if you could host the event here, or maybe have it at the home of one of your friends. I don't really like the idea of you running out to a, or the bar and being out late out there, even if it's on a weekend. I love you, and I want to give you as much space as I can, but we have to think about our family, and we have to think about what's best for them."

Shiage nodded enthusiastically, as he walked towards the nearby oven. Pressing a selection of buttons on the small panel above the oven's burners, the oven was set to preheat at the appropriate temperature.

"Way ahead of you; that's exactly what I was thinking," Shiage asserted. "If you're feeling it, I could host the Championships celebration down in the wreck room like last year; I don't even have to be down there the entire time. I can help with whatever you might need; you know, whether it's with cleaning up or giving Gargantuan Boy his bath. I wouldn't just up and leave you like that. Last thing I'd want to do is leave my family behind to go and sit in some chaotic, loud bar or something."

Allowing her lengthy spoon to come to a temporary rest in the bowl containing the thick, paste-like mix, Rikou quickly approached her husband, and, throwing her arms around his neck, she pulled him close. Rising, Rikou stood up on her toes and pecked Shiage on the lips; not once, but twice, before she parted.

"Thank you for being a responsible father and a responsible husband. I really can't put into words how much I appreciate it and you, but that won't be necessary. You should enjoy your night with your friends. We're not a middle-aged couple yet."

"It's nothing," Shiage mumbled, chuckling quietly, a small, almost effeminate blush present on his cheeks. "Family comes first. I'm far from perfect, but I try to be the best that I can. This is where I'm happiest anyways; I'm in my element when I'm just spending time with the best wife and the best children a man could ask for."

Hamazura Fremea's eyes could hardly even stay open. She wasn't tired, not by any means; her sleep schedule hadn't been harmed, nor had she succeeded in, or even attempted an "all-nighter".

Instead, Fremea quickly realized that she was leaning too close to her television. Sat upon her room's floor with her legs folded beneath her posterior, Fremea's sweat-plastered hands gripped her console's controller, her right hand's thumb nearly slipping from the right thumbstick, while her left's thumb just barely maintained its grip on the controller's 'X' button. Fremea quickly scooted away from the television, pushing herself some three feet back. Her wireless controller was quite the boon to have in such a situation.

"What's your loadout?!" an excited voice proclaimed, broadcasted throughout the large, unwieldly headset Fremea wore. Protruding from the rightmost grille, a long, bendable microphone was aligned with the young woman's lips.

Into the microphone Fremea spoke her response, her words hushed and almost feverish, filled with nervousness and excitement alike.

"Hellbringer, best-in-slot primary, combat rifle. Baby Magnum, best-in-slot sidearm… well, it's a magnum. Your girl worked her pretty, little as— I mean, butt off to get these babies. Azumi, are you ready to fill Hivelord V'sharh with lead?"

Azumi didn't immediately reply. Fremea raised an eyebrow, and waited for a response to come.

Then, she looked to the right of the game's HUD. A small box, designed with a vague sense of old world gothic architecture in mind displayed the members of Azumi's band of ragtag raiders, the greatest players Fate's random Raid Finder system could offer.

There were a total of twenty-eight individuals who had signed on to act as damage-dealers. Fremea herself was excluded from this group, as she had signed up to act as one of the band's multiple secondary tanks.

There weren't any healers, not anymore at least; seemingly, all ten had dropped out, or had been disconnected. The band's chat box didn't show any signs of trolling or flame wars having taken place.

Frantically flicking her controller's left thumbstick downwards, Fremea's first-person view of the game world shifted, and she looked to the enormous, flesh-covered, writhing gate behind her character; closed. The raid band was locked to the instance's boss encounter.

The gate behind them, and the gate north of the band's location would only open once the boss encounter had ended, either with the boss's unlikely defeat, or the very likely wipe of the raid band.

"Izumi," Fremea whispered. "L-let's re-que… I g-guess… two h-hours wasted. Wow. V'sharh will wipe the floor with us without heals… Izumi? Hello? Izumi? Yo! Izumi! Lame-o! Loserface? … for gosh's sake. You could've at least said "bye", you di… dill pickle."

The tension that'd suddenly filled the room had caught the attention of Hamazura Daichi. Ever astute, the boy tilted his head in his big sister's direction. He rose and made his way towards her, taking care to avoid tripping over his own scattered playthings as he walked.

He plopped himself down next to his sister, and looked up to her.

"Hi Fremmie."

Placing her controller on the hardwood flooring next to her, Hamazura Fremea placed either of the palms of her hands on Hamazura Daichi's cheeks. Smiling, she then ruffled his hair, as her fingers danced across his soft little scalp.

"Hi, bug boy! Long time no see," Fremea spoke jokingly, as the boy beneath her hands giggled happily. Almost instantaneously, any and all negativity within the young woman's mind was banished to some dark, dusty corner; she couldn't have felt negative as she looked down at her younger brother's smiling face if she'd wanted to. The way he smiled simply lit up her existence the way no one else's smile possibly could.

The boy place either of his little hands on the tops of Fremea's own and tilted his head to the side once more; Fremea's hold loosened, offering her younger brother the breathing room he needed.

"Happy Fremmie? I feel happy." Daichi's smile widened, and, once he'd freed himself from his sister's grip, he tossed himself backwards, catapulting his five-year-old form into Fremea's lap with as much force as his little legs could muster.

Descending into a fit of laughter, Fremea nearly found herself falling backwards as she caught Daichi in her arms. The strength of her lower body managed to steady her balance, saving her from an unceremonious meeting with the floor. She wrapped either of her arms around her younger brother and, embracing him, Fremea pulled him close. The boy cooed in pleasure as he did his best to throw his own little arms around his sister's shoulders.

"I'm very happy," Fremea spoke, reassuringly. "How could I not be? I've got the greatest little brother a girl could ask for. You're so loving, I could just kiss your face off, you know that? I'm so blessed to have such a happy little brother."

"Gorf."

Both Fremea and Daichi turned their respective attentions to Fremea's unmade bed. Within the comforter and the sheets, there was a large lump, the head of which protruded from the bed's left side. This lump was in fact a large, tired-looking St. Bernard. The canine tilted its head to one side, and then repeated the same vocalization he'd previously produced.

"Noggin!" Fremea scolded. "How did you… bad dog! You're not supposed to be in there, boy… you'll get your hair all over… ah, you know what? It doesn't matter. You can stay if you want, boy. You're the best dog, too, you know."

"Noggin's good!" Daichi added, nodding his head, as if he sought to re-affirm his own words. "Want to go for a walk, Noggin?"

The tired-looking canine responded by pulling himself back into the warmth of the comforter and sheets of Fremea's bed, becoming an amorphous blob within them once again. Apparently, that was a no.

Daichi shrugged in response, unconcerned. "Maybe next time, Noggin."

The term her brother had used, "walk", triggered something within Fremea's higher mind, something she'd nearly forgotten about; if all was still held in place, even though the declaration of a plan had been loose at best, Fremea had a playdate to prepare for.

Rising, with Daichi clutched protectively in her arms, Fremea looked down at him, and couldn't help but smile again. Hamazura Fremea leaned in, and rubbed the tip of her nose against the tip of Hamazura Daichi's own nose.

"Hey, bug boy," Fremea began. "You reminded me of something. I might have plans today with my friends. I'd love to bring you with us, I know everyone would love to see you, the life of the party, but I don't think you'd have fun. There won't be a lot of fun kids' stuff for you to do, and we'll just be going around to girly shops. Before I start making calls and getting ready, maybe you want to play something with me on the Nabonn Eight? We could throw on some Danger Zone or something! We saved your progress last time, so we can continue from world three! You were really close to getting to world four!"

Though he'd seemed mildly disappointed at first, Daichi began to nod enthusiastically upon the mentioning of his beloved video game. "Okay! Yay! Noggin and me and mama and papa can have adventures until you get back, Fremmie."

After kissing his forehead, Fremea set Daichi down, feet first upon the hardwood flooring. The boy carefully sat himself down before the game console, backing himself a few feet away from it, the words imparted to him by his papa alive in his mind; sitting too close to the television for too long could do bad things to his eyes. If those words were something Daichi's papa knew and followed, it was obviously important for him to follow those words as well.

"Fremmie, who are you going out with?" Daichi inquired, curiously. "Will Shin be there? Shin's happy and nice."

Having stepped away from her game console, and from the television to which the console was connected to, Fremea remained facing her room's dresser, her head lowered, vision focused on the contents of the dresser's third drawer. With its third drawer open, she had begun to search throughout said drawer for her console's second controller. She'd been stopped in her tracks, however, by the mere mentioning of that boy's name.

Fremea had completely frozen up, like she was the character on a television's screen or a monitor, the game she belonged in having locked up.

His face instantly leapt into her mind's eye like some great cryptid leaping out into a deserted roadway, with intentions of scaring the daylights out of a driver bored to tears. His soft, feathery hair, the top slightly thicker than the sides, with its bangs curled upwards, aided in its suspension by gel, his big, handsome blue eyes and his kissable lips all rushed to the front of Fremea's higher mind, and her face had erupted into a scarlet blush.

"D-Daichi? Bug boy? Can Fremmie tell you a secret? You'll keep it a secret, right?"

Though Fremea couldn't have seen it as she faced her dresser, with her hands cupped awkwardly behind her back, Daichi nodded.

"Mhm. I won't tell ANYBODY!"

Finally, the young woman had managed to fish the game console's second controller out from within her dresser's third drawer. She grasped it in her right sweat-plastered, awkwardly shuddering hand, while she closed the drawer with her left.

Fremea set herself down next to her younger brother, who she invited to sit in her lap, waving him onwards. Daichi accepted this invitation and once again threw himself back into his older sister's protective embrace. Before she began to speak, Hamazura Fremea placed a soft, affectionate kiss atop Hamazura Daichi's head, causing him to quietly giggle.

"You'll understand it all a little better when you're older," Fremea began, her voice quiet, though characteristically confident. "Being friends with someone is a funny thing, Daichi. Sometimes, you don't even really know if you're only just friends… it could be something else entirely! Fremmie and Shin, well, they're good friends, very good friends. Sometimes, when two people are the best of friends, their "friendship level" gets upgraded, and they become… super friends, kind of like how Otter Oswald gets stronger and faster when he eats crab shells in Danger Zone!"

Hamazura Daichi looked back to his older sister with wonder in his eyes, his lips parted slightly. Within his developing mind, his imagination ran wild. The idea of being "upgraded" was truly a fascinating one.

"That's… so… cool…" Daichi murmured. "So does that mean you're gonna power up?! Like Oswald?! Fremmie is so cool! Shin is cool too!"

"Maybe, bug boy," Fremea spoke, her voice almost an awkward whisper. Her blush had deepened, as the embrace she held her younger brother in tightened. Softly, Fremea rested her lips and chin against the crown of Daichi's little head, nuzzling him all the while.

"I'd like to power up like Oswald does, but it's not as easy as Oswald makes it look! Shin and me can't just go out collecting crab shells… you know what? Let's just play some Danger Zone, Daichi. I'll talk more with mom and dad about it. Thanks for listening, I love you."

Handing the second controller to the patiently-waiting boy in her lap, Daichi eagerly took it into his hands, as, on her own controller, Fremea pressed down on a large, bright green button mounted to the center of the controller.

"I love you too, Fremmie!" Daichi happily remarked, as he bobbed from side to side, quietly humming a soft tune to himself as he waited for his older sister to first find, and then launch the application that would begin a session of Danger Zone.

Following the display of a short loading screen, the game's title screen soon faded in from the relative darkness of the screen before it. The rolling foothills were laden with long, brightly-colored green grass with tall, pointed mountaintops visible in the background, while in the foreground, several tall, exotic-seeming flowers were visible, their pedals spinning in a clockwise fashion. The sky above the bit, rendered in all of its sixteen-bit glory was bright and blue, with only a few clouds visible in the sky. Running along a pathway among the tall blades of grass, Oswald the Otter, clad in his trademark blue overalls and fishing hat ran as the game's title, rendered in a large, cartoonish and blocky font was lowered from the sky.

Hamazura Fremea could almost see herself with that boy Shin, maybe sitting amongst the mountaintops, or maybe lounging in the soft-looking blades of grass. Her blush only deepened as these images passed her mind's eye by like a slideshow.

October 10th, 2014. 10:01 AM.

Set atop an enormous plate in the center of the kitchen area's table, a truly glorious feast – by the standards of both Hamazura Shiage and Hamazura Rikou – had been laid out. So many thick, fluffy pancakes, laden with so many large and juicy-looking chocolate chips had been piled onto the great platter, a meal fit for a king, or in this case, two kings and two queens. Near the area of the feast was a large, plastic jug filled to the brim with "authentic Canadian-made" maple syrup, ready to be poured all over the tower of pancakes.

"Good teamwork, pardner," Shiage remarked. From within the kitchen's fridge; he'd produced a large jug filled to the brim with peach juice.

Rikou nodded her head, as she rubbed the palms of her hands along the surface of the apron she'd taken to wearing; it'd taken more than a few blows for her during the time in which she and her husband had prepared breakfast. Leaning towards Shiage, Rikou affectionately pecked him on the lips.

"Good teamwork, partner. If you want to grab the kids, I can prepare everything we'll need out here."

"Right on," Shiage nodded. "I'll return bearing gifts, love. Hold down the fort!"

"Go away, you annoying man." Rikou turned, shaking her head and quietly giggling to herself. "You're such a goofball. I love you too, for some reason."

Hamazura Shiage couldn't help but laugh heartily as he made his way out of the kitchen area, through the sitting room, and down the nearby corridor, which lead to his kids' respective bedrooms, the first floor's bathroom, the laundry room, and to the doorway which lead down into the wreck room; his wife's loving jabs were a great source of enjoyment for the young man; it helped greatly that Rikou could take a joke, as well.

Passing by the ornate oaken door which lead into his son's room, Shiage made his way to the door some five or six feet away from the previous. Though the adjacent door was closed, unlike the door to Daichi's room which was open, Hamazura Shiage knew he was anything but forbidden from entering. Still, he wasn't about to barge in unannounced.

Softly knocking his right hand's knuckles against the door's oaken surface, a small grin tugged at the edges of his lips.

"I demand an audience!" Shiage announced, hardly able to control his laughter. He stepped back from the door, placing either of his hands into the pockets of his pants.

Fremea's own giggling voice responded, "I grant ye audience, unworthy one!"

A soft 'ping' could be heard, as the sound of hardwood shifting beneath a fair bit of weight became audible. The door was opened, though Shiage wasn't greeted by his daughter.

"PAPA!" Hamazura Daichi happy exclaimed, leaping upwards into the air, the legs of his five-year-old form catapulting him as far as they possibly could; as he always had and always would, Shiage threw his arms open and caught his son's form, bringing the giggling, overjoyed boy up to his chest. Setting his right arm beneath his son's rump to support him, Shiage wrapped his left around the boy's shoulders, and held him tight.

The young man couldn't have possibly hoped to hold back the smile that his lips curled into as he felt his son, the unconquerable, unbreakable love between he and his wife made flesh nuzzle him and offer his overwhelming, overflowing love to his father.

No matter how old Hamazura Shiage got, no matter how much his mind threatened to slip from him in the distant future, he would never forget the first moment he'd met his son, introduced for the first time to the world outside of the protective embrace of Hamazura Rikou's belly.

Shiage would never forget how hard he sobbed as tears of ecstasy slipped down his cheeks. Shiage would never forget the image of Hamazura Daichi's cute little face; the boy had, surprisingly, and much to Shiage's initial concern, been utterly quiet as he looked around, curious of the vast new world around him, the tiniest of spit bubbles forming between his little lips.

It'd been five years since that faithful meeting; Hamazura Daichi was as handsome as ever. He was almost growing up too fast. Shiage found himself feeling oddly nostalgic. The desire to have the little month-old bundle of warmth and love fall asleep in his arms after a long evening shift was alive and strong with Hamazura Shiage.

"You're getting so big. Feels like every time I look at you, you're a little bit taller. Mama and papa's little man is growing up so fast… bring it in, Fremmie," Shiage offered; his beautiful daughter, though not of his blood but an equal in the young man's heart to his biological son took her father up on his offer. After closing the distance between them, Fremea threw her arms around her father's waist, smiling widely.

"Morning, daddy," Fremea spoke, softly. The fact that his daughter, his little girl still called him daddy brought warmness to Shiage's already warmed heart. "What's for breakfast? I smell… something good."

Daichi sniffed the air like a hound searching for the scent of their prey. His eyelids parted as his pupils dilated, his heartrate increasing as excitement coursed through his body. The boy would recognize that smell anywhere.

"What's for breakfast? Well… I'm sorry to say, but you might find it a bit boring, Fremmie. All mom and I could throw together was CHOCOLATE CHIP PANCAKES!"

"D-daddy. You and m-mom are… THE best."

If Hamazura Fremea had been a less civilized (and less well-raised) young woman, she might've found herself drooling. Rising, she stood as tall as she could on the tips of her toes and placed a kiss to her father's cheek before she rushed off down the corridor, sock-clad feet slapping against hardwood.

"Papa, I tried to find the monsters last night, but they didn't come. What should we do, papa? I want to meet them bad."

Looking into his son's big, round eyes, Shiage's lips curled into a mock-frown of disappointment. With Daichi held tightly in his arms, apparently not in any hurry to be put down, Shiage began to carefully make his way down the corridor, intending to deliver the boy to the kitchen area.

"Yeah? I don't know why they're hiding from you, little Mr. One Two, Buckle My Shoe," Shiage spoke, softly; the nickname he'd given to his son caused the boy to giggle. "If I was a monster, I'd like to meet you. We could go on adventures together, and everything. Of course, I'd bring you back to your nice, warm bed, safe and sound before morning. Don't want to get mama bear mad, right? GRR!"

Once both father and son had entered the kitchen area, Shiage carefully lowered Daichi towards the tiled flooring, and cautiously set him down on his feet; once loosed, the boy quickly bolted in his mother's direction. Standing before the table, Hamazura Rikou had begun to carefully place a fourth and final pancake on Hamazura Fremea's plate.

"MAMA! Hi!" the boy exclaimed, rushing towards and then throwing himself against his mother's legs. Rikou's sturdy form helped steady her and kept her balance. She set the spatula she'd held down onto the table's surface, unconcerned by the fact that it was plastered with sticky, thick syrup; the mess could be cleaned, and every moment with her son, the boy she'd carried with her, the existence that had lived inside of her, which had been one with her for nine long months was a precious moment, one not to be squandered.

Rikou crouched low, taking her son into her arms, while a chuckling Shiage picked up where his lover had left off, as he continued to dish up the feast.

As she ran her fingers through her son's hair, Rikou rested her lips against his right ear. Softly, she whispered. "Good morning, my precious little bum! Pleasant dreams?"

"Adventures," Daichi stated, firmly. The boy placed a series of kisses to his mother's cheek before he scrambled towards his seat the table. With his mother's tender assistance, the giggling, perpetually-joyous boy was placed into his Gekota-themed booster seat.

"Everyone hungry? Rikou inquired, looking from one member of her family to the other, taking each of them in. Shiage pecked the top of his wife's head as he passed her by; having loaded up Rikou's plate, he sought to load up his own; last, but certainly not least.

While Daichi enthusiastically nodded, beginning to dig into his carefully cut pancake with his hands as his only utensil as his mother set herself down in her seat, Fremea offered a verbal response.

"Very hungry. I kind of got caught up in something last night, so I didn't get the chance to have a snack… I was regretting it. That channel was on again, and I just couldn't resist."

Shiage's attention perked up. That channel was still a thing? He was surprised. It must've been run entirely by one crazy person.

He'd seated himself casually in his seat directly across from Rikou's, and, as he began to cut first of many pancakes piled on his plate, he raised an eyebrow.

"Academy City Local?" Fremea's father inquired, curiously. "What kind of insane quackery did they have running there? If we'd known they… or it – the station could be run by a dang robot for all we know – were broadcasting, I would've bugged your mother into tuning in. Would've been better viewing than the movie we watched."

Rikou found herself quietly giggling, which caused Daichi to begin laughing to himself, seemingly only affected by his mother's apparently contagious laughter. Fremea found herself falling under the spell's effects as well.

"It was that weird Bible… science… alien-thing show I caught, I think it was some really, REALLY low-budget kids' programming before that," Fremea explained. "Little Catholic Bible Science Outsiders Teaching". I can't believe I memorized that title. Stick me in a straightjacket and be done with it already."

With Daichi too deep in ecstasy, his little taste buds being tingled and pleasured with every second that a carefully cut piece of chocolate chip pancake sat inside of his mouth, he had little to offer to the conversation. His thoughts, as scattered as they were, drifted towards adventure, a world of chocolate chip pancakes where the very grass could be eaten like a fine dessert, and Danger Zone. Rikou seemed to be out of the loop, but listened on intently, regardless of this fact.

Shiage rested his fork and knife on either side of his plate, rolling his shoulders about before he responded to his daughter's words.

"You have to admit, Patsy is an admirable character. He's super mean, but there's something about him that I respect. He tells it like it is, and just doesn't give a flip what anyone else thinks."

"That little pink piece of sh… poopie?" Fremea almost blurted; her oddly aggressive reaction caused Daichi to begin giggling aloud, seemingly for no reason. Reaching over to her little brother, Fremea poked his shoulder. In response, he leaned forward and placed his syrup-covered lips to her finger, and planted a soft kiss upon it, causing his older sister to swoon, both internally and externally.

Silent, but completely contented, Rikou's lips couldn't have curled into a larger smile. Watching her family happily interact, as they always had, and as they always would brought great satisfaction to the young woman's heart.

Fremea turned back to her father, as Daichi returned to his meal. "You have to admit, Fire Tank Frankie is probably the most complex character in the entire series. Of the few characters who actually question Patsy's weird, culty sermons, Frankie's the most skeptical."

"I am so lost," Rikou admitted, shaking her head from side to side. Fremea and her father looked to one another and broke into a shared fit of laughter; both Rikou and Daichi found themselves joining in, as the infection made a resurgence.

Not one of them wanted anything else. It was a moment that would be treasured, along with so many others.


	23. It Begins

In the world where the darkness ruled as a master and as a way of life, dictating all things and holding those who dwelled within its realm in place with an unfeeling, cold iron fist, there were two elements to any action, two results – or, alternatively, two consequences – that could come of any given situation.

There was success and there was failure. There was nothing in between; falling between these two results was to automatically drift to failure. It was to admit weakness and to admit that one simply wasn't cut out for a life consumed by darkness.

At least, that's how Academy City's fourth ranked level five had thought, once.

There were things in the world, things that'd forcibly injected themselves into her life that changed her mode of thought. Every time she ended up sparing someone she was supposed to waste, every time she looked down at them and told them to "beat it", every time they looked on with hopeful, surprised eyes, it hurt her pride more and more.

Yet, paradoxically, there was an odd emotional reward that came along with this "good" behavior.

It was all terribly inconvenient.

Clad in a simplistic, aqua-colored blouse, a pair of extremely tight-fitting light blue jeans which were hemmed, and a pair of expensive aviator-style sunglasses which sat atop her head, close to her head's crown, Mugino Shizuri quietly stayed within her own head, keeping her suddenly thoughtless state of being to herself.

The bitch "Supreme Superintendent" had been staved off for the time being. With a backlog of 'duties' finally completed, the rest of the day belonged to ITEM, to do with as they pleased. For an utterly stressed Mugino Shizuri, this would be the first real break in over five days of constant, gruelling delves into what remained of Academy City's underworld.

She sat before an ornate glass table, her fine posterior seated upon an equally ornate, metallic chair that resembled a royal's throne more than it did a chair that'd commonly be found in a kitchen setting. Set upon the table's translucent surface was a half-eaten burger, topped with as many toppings as the buns could hold. Spread out over the grease-covered wrapping were only a few fries. Shizuri herself hadn't even pecked at them; they'd been devoured by the fourth ranked level five's two partners in licensed, privatized mercenary work.

Seated across from Mugino Shizuri was another young woman who was almost frighteningly short for her age. Kinuhata Saiai's hair was messy, light brown in coloration, falling to her shoulders. Its fringe was parted in the center, either side swept towards her hair's long bangs. Unlike the fourth ranked level five, this young woman had applied plenty of makeup to her form; her eyelashes had been darkened by eyeliner, her eyelids by eyeshadow, and her face obviously had blush liberally applied to its cheeks. Adorned in a plain white, sleeveless top and a pair of denim shorts which were far too revealing even by Shizuri's standards, the Offense Armor user munched on a pile of fries which she'd plundered from the fourth level five's makeshift plate.

To make matters even more painfully annoying, the obnoxious young woman who sat to the left of both Mugino Shizuri and Kinuhata Saiai had her stocking-clad feet stacked on the table's surface, dangerously close to Shizuri's makeshift plate.

Shizuri could only snort as she looked at the blonde mercenary. At the very least, Frenda Seivelun had the decency to cover up, even if she didn't possess the most basic of manners.

The blonde, foreign mercenary wore a navy blue, buttoned-up crop top which exposed her midriff, accented by a miniature navy blue dress, hanging just above her upper thighs. Rather than actively consuming Mugino Shizuri's fries (or, more accurately, what remained of said fries), Frenda Seivelun fiddled with her smartphone, which rested in her lap along with either of her hands.

The fact that Frenda Seivelun was even alive was a testament to the fact that even a decade prior to the moment in which she'd found herself, Mugino Shizuri's mind had been afflicted by weakness and an unwillingness to do what needed to be done, no matter the cost. The blonde mercenary should've died a traitor's death for what she'd done. It was the ultimate offense, the greatest slap in the face one could apply to the face of their partners in crime.

And yet Mugino Shizuri hadn't gone through with it, even if she'd wanted to go through with it, even if she wanted to slice the traitor in half and throw either severed piece of her into some stinking gutter.

In the end, she'd held the stupid, snivelling traitor in her arms and cried with her for a while.

Mugino Shizuri had allowed herself to fucking cry. What a waste, indeed.

"Mugino, you super look like you're trying really hard to take a shit. Need some laxatives? Or are you super concentrating on something?"

The damnable traitor cackled like a witch in response, throwing her head back. As if self-awareness had returned to her, the petite mercenary pulled either of her legs down, and set her feet down upon the kitchen area's dark tiled flooring, where they belonged.

"Basically, Kinuhata's right, you know! That was the goofiest facial expression I've ever seen… like, ever."

Shizuri's response was swift and sure.

"Do you both want to fucking die? I'll paint this place with your blood if you don't shut the fuck up."

This only caused Kinuhata Saiai to join the perpetually laughing Frenda Seivelun. Mugino Shizuri had become the laughing stock of ITEM, if not all of Academy City. Not even the Accelerator was quite as sissified as Meltdowner. At this prospect, Shizuri's lips awkwardly curled into a grin. She shook her head, as she rested her forehead in her right hand's palm.

"Basically," Frenda began, leaning close to the fourth ranked level five and looking at her with an eyebrow raised, in an almost conspiratorial manner, "we know what you did last weekend, Mugino. We know what you did and why you did it. We know you… baby-talked to Daichi-chan. We know you've gone soft and we know you ain't shit anymore."

"Haven't we had this conversation before? Yes, because I'm not going to talk to a five-year-old child in Ebonics," Shizuri grumbled. Then, something snapped into place within her mind. The mentioning of that damnable child that melted her icy heart brought some memory that'd been pushed to the back of her mind to the front."

"Shizuri-nee! Call me! I miss you! We need to go on adventures! Maybe we can explore MOUNT GULCOR together!"

"Of course, sweetiepie~! Shizuri-nee will make sure to call you as soon as she gets a spare moment, okay? Shizuri-nee misses her little troublemaker, too! Yes, she does! She does~!"

The fourth ranked level five gritted her teeth, as if daring both Frenda Seivelun and Kinuhata Saiai to say even another word about the matter.

Unsurprisingly, Hamazura Daichi had been the first to finish his meal. While he hadn't eaten a lot, nor had he eaten too quickly, the boy's pace always was a fast one.

Though he'd consumed his morsels with his hands, he had carefully cleaned both by first stuffing them in his mouth, and then drying them with a napkin; the five-year-old child's attention to detail had impressed both his parents and his sister to no end, as always.

Patiently, the child listened on as his parents concluded their short conversation about what goods might've been needed in the household; the conclusion that a list would've been needed had been reached, and the boy had a feeling that his time to speak was coming. Of course, he'd have to wait his turn, but that wasn't a bad thing by any means. It was polite to do that, and being polite was a very good thing to be.

"Daichi-chan," Rikou spoke, looking to her son, who had an odd, yet incredibly humorous look of determination on his face, "is everything okay?"

"Help wash me up, mama?" Daichi inquired. He tilted his head and blinked.

Hamazura Fremea, who'd finished her meal, happily rose and winked in her parents' direction. She lifted her younger brother up from his booster seat, and held him close, offering him support by placing her forearm beneath his rump.

"I've got your back," Fremea spoke, happily. "I'll get bug boy washed and dressed up. Don't even worry about it. I want to spend a little bit more time with him before I go out today anyways. I insist!"

Hamazura Rikou already knew that there was very little arguing to be done, at least in an innocuous situation like the one before her. Once her beautiful little girl set her eyes on something, it'd take a brick wall to stop her, and even that much was debateable. There was a good chance that Fremea would simply crash right through it.

"You're a sweetheart, Frem," Shiage spoke, as he shovelled the last of his morsels into his mouth. This resulted in a soft slap on the hand from Rikou, who shook her head disapprovingly at her husband.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Rikou chastised. "Honestly. You can be such a savage at times."

Rikou turned to Fremea, and smiled at her children.

"Ooga booga!" Shiage exclaimed, causing his wife to burst out laughing.

"Your goofy father is right, Fremea-chan. Everything you do here is so very much appreciated. You're such a big help to your mama and daddy and your baby brother. We all love you so much."

Rikou hadn't really seen anything like it before, and she hadn't seen it since. There was a peacefulness about the two, a bond so deep that Rikou couldn't even begin to try and comprehend it. Though they were born of two different sets of parents, the two were as close as twins who shared a womb. Fremea adored her brother, and her brother adored her right back.

Of course, Daichi's good behavior was a result of the way he was being raised. Rikou silently chastised some of the fellow parents she knew; some people just weren't cut out for the never-ending job that was parenthood. Even if it was never-ending, Rikou never wanted it to end. She wanted to love her children and be loved by them until the end of time.

"You deserve it," Fremea remarked, blushing slightly as Daichi gently fiddled with his elder sister's long, blonde locks, being cautious not to accidentally pull them or cause his beloved sister harm.

As Fremea began her gentle and careful trek towards the first floor's bathroom, with Daichi speaking excitedly about "clean washroom adventures", Hamazura Rikou turned to Hamazura Shiage, who was only just finishing the repeated dabbing of his napkin against his lips.

He raised an eyebrow in his wife's direction as he began to chuckle.

"Is there something I can help you with, Big Mama?"

"Oh, hush. You're just so goofy."

Rikou had risen from her seat, and, after closing the short distance between herself and her husband, who'd chosen to remain seated, Rikou checked over her shoulder. The sounds of water being expelled from the sink and the happy, carefree giggling of her children was enough to not only bring a smile to Hamazura Rikou's face, but enough to assure her that the moment wouldn't become one of "accidental perversion".

Shiage couldn't restrain his laughter. It escaped quietly from between his lips, as he threw his arms around the waist of the woman who'd chosen to share her life and the overflowing love she had to give with him. He pulled his wife close and, pulling up her shirt, he began to gently kiss her belly.

"You love it," Shiage spoke between his chuckles. "You know you do, you can't get enough of the Shiage."

"I think I'm overdosing," Rikou sarcastically replied. This only made her husband begin to chuckle even more heartily; she was so deeply glad that her lover could take a joke. Rikou began to run her fingers over her beloved's scalp, gently massaging him as he clearly enjoyed himself.

Shiage's hands began to reach down from his wife's hips, and towards her posterior; Rikou certainly couldn't have said that she minded the physical attention. With a good night's rest under her belt, Rikou felt more alive than ever.

"You can go up a little bit if you'd like," Rikou softly stated. "Actually… we should probably get s-started on d-doing up these… d-dishes… but it feels so good. I l-love it w-when you kiss m-me. Please kiss me more? I s-still remember the first time you d-did this to me, y-you know? I remember how much it TURNED me ON."

"Gorf."

Both Shiage and Rikou broke away from one another, as if they were caught by an officer of the law performing some illegal action in public. Hamazura Rikou, blushing heavily, pulled her shirt down as Hamazura Shiage rose from his seat and awkwardly shifted his gaze from his left, and then to his right, as he stuffed either of his hands into his pockets.

"Dammit, Noggin," Shiage grumbled. "This is the third time this week. I'm starting to get the feeling that you enjoy cockblocking your mother and father."

The canine almost smiled, knowingly, as he carefully walked towards the kitchen's refrigerator, where he sat himself down on his haunches. The St. Bernard's tail wagged back and forth as he looked up to his adoptive parents, his big, beady round eyes staring up at the married couple. Rikou's heart instantaneously melted, while Shiage produced a grunt of frustration as he attempted to coax his manhood into shrinking back down to its normal size.

For a moment, Shiage thought he saw the creature wink; but such a thing couldn't have been possible.

Then, from within his mouth, Noggin the dog spat forth a small object. It landed on the kitchen's flooring, covered in slobber and unconditional dog-love.

Both Shiage and Rikou bent down to observe the object, and both subsequently butted heads with one another. Their skulls clashed, and their respective heads of hair were ruffled by the collision.

The married couple collectively produced an "ow!" and backed away from one another, before both Hamazura Shiage and Hamazura Rikou broke down into laughter.

Then, Noggin spat out another, and another; there were three objects on the floor, each of which the canine had apparently been carrying around inside of his mouth, for reasons only known to him. He then placed his right paw against the surface of the refrigerator.

"Gorf."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get your breakfast, you big, lazy old man," Shiage mumbled. As he rose, he stroked the canine's head before he pried the refrigerator's door open.

Rikou, on the other hand, was almost mesmerized by what the family dog had smuggled into the home's kitchen. It was a small golden-colored and rather heavy locket, comfortably fitting into the palm of the young woman's hand. While it was attached to no sort of string or any sort of ornate chain, the surface of the locket was engraved with small, snaking vines, from which small, golden-colored leaves jettisoned.

The other two objects that Noggin the dog had smuggled from an unknown location were a small doll with large, beady black eyes, constructed of interwound yellow string, as well as a singular, crumpled and sopping wet movie ticket; Rikou could hardly make out the text that was upon the ticket's surface, as most of it had been lost to time, or to dog saliva.

While Hamazura Shiage carefully placed clumps of Noggin's "UltraHealth" breakfast into his food bowl near the kitchen area's sink, Rikou stepped towards the table, where she set the doll and the faded movie ticket. Placing her nail carefully and cautiously beneath the almost miniscule clip that held both sides of the locket's shell together, she pried it open.

Inside was something that made the young woman blush furiously. It forced an entire wave of many emotions to rush towards her and nearly overtake her. The mess of feelings crashed into Hamazura Rikou, nearly breaking her resolve, almost making her yet another victim of emotion's undertow.

Perhaps it hadn't hit her until that moment; perhaps, for a while, Hamazura Rikou had still thought of Hamazura Fremea, she and Hamazura Shiage's eighteen-year-old adopted daughter as that bratty eight-year-old girl who frequently ended her sentences with instances of the characteristically child-like "nyah".

Inside of the locket was something innocuous enough, in and of itself. It was a little photograph, something that must've been taken in the photography booth of a mall or department store.

It depicted Hamazura Fremea and a familiar-looking boy from the waist-up. Rikou and Shiage's little girl was clad in a large, baggy and white-colored pullover sweater, its hood dangling behind her neck, rubbing against the backside of the sweater. Fremea's hair was tied up into a messy bun, and she wore little makeup; she didn't need to wear any at all. The boy standing next to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed young woman was quite handsome; like Hamazura Fremea, he was clad in a hooded sweater, though his was equipped with a zipper separating both sides of the article of clothing. He wore a simplistic blue and black-colored baseball cap forwards, tilted upwards in a respectful and casual manner.

Rikou couldn't even begin to ignore the blushes present on both of their faces. Hamazura Fremea looked so very contented, and the boy next to her looked as if he'd ascended to heaven, as if he was being greeted by some glorious gatekeeper.

Fremea's adoptive mother felt warmth in either of her eyes, though the warmth was not born of sadness or disappointment. It was raw and primal, the result of an eternally-devoted guardian realizing that their services might become obsoleted.

"Oi, is that Ueda-san? Heh, they make a good pair, no? Where in the world did Noggin get this from, eh? I wonde… Rikou, hey, what's up? Look at you, all teary-eyed. Want to talk about it? Bring it in, c'mere, I've gotcha."

Hamazura Rikou was jolted from her own thoughts, her body jumping slightly as she was wrested from within her mind. Turned to Shiage, Rikou took him into her arms, and rubbed the side of her face against her husband's chest, the locket clutched in her left hand's palm. Both of Shiage's arms fell over his beloved's form, as his hands gently massaged her back.

For such a big, sometimes dumb, sometimes irritating and overall brutish savage, Hamazura Shiage knew just how to take care of his family.

Rikou produced a sigh before she spoke her piece.

"Fremea-chan is growing up so fast. Too fast. I don't know if there's anything between our little girl and Ueda-san, but…"

"Of course there is," Shiage stated, quite confidently. "Look at Fremmie's face. She's totally loving it. Ueda's a good boy, always did like 'im. Always did think there was something between him and our Fremmie, though. Something more than just "ye olde friendship". You think he sees that, too? Hope the boy's not dense, like one of those characters from a harem manga."

"Does this not concern you, even a little bit?" Rikou inquired, as she parted from her lover. She carefully began bringing the dishes from the kitchen area's table to one of the nearby sinks; it was a move that needed to be made before the dishes were forgotten about completely.

"Relationships are no laughing matter, especially when it comes to young love. People can easily get hurt, and when two people progress from a friendship to a relationship, it can end in disaster. Can, but doesn't always… obviously."

Rikou smiled knowingly in Shiage's direction. Warmly, he smiled right back at her.

"I'm just saying, we might not be able to simply take to the backseat here, just because Fremea-chan is older. She's wise, but she's still someone who's so new to the concept of love. I think she should have guidance."

Shiage came to nod in agreement as he took to his wife's side, intent on assisting Rikou in the dishes' cleaning. She certainly wasn't going to reject the help. As he neared, Rikou stood up on her toes, and placed a kiss to Shiage's cheek.

"Uh huh. I feel the way you feel. At the same time, though, we can't smother her. That's not fair either. She's a smart eighteen-year-old girl; we raised her, after all. She's got the best of both of us up in her head. She's got your intellect, and she's got my… well… actually… huh. Well, I taught her how to punch people, right? If the going gets rough, just punch your way out of a sticky situation. Kamijou's got the right idea. Both of them, really…"

"Don't go and talk like that. You have no reason to sell yourself short," Rikou softly chastised. "You have plenty of street-smarts, and you've imparted many important life lessons to both of our children. I do agree that smothering Fremea-chan would be unfair and inhumane, but, perhaps we should take this moment to sit down with her and talk, as two adults giving advice to another adult. We can level with her."

"Yuh huh," Shiage responded; while Rikou began to fill the nearest sink with water, and then reached below it, into the cupboard, presumably for the bottle of dish soap, Shiage began collecting and organizing each individual dish and piece of cutlery.

"You think she's been pushing herself?"

"Why? Do you?"

Shiage shrugged his shoulders, as he reached for the nearby dishtowel.

"Sort of. I mean… I'm probably not in the right here, but, heck, she just graduated from high school a few months ago, and here she is already planning out her entire life and career… imagine, our little girl becoming a teacher.

"I'm proud, Rikou, you have no idea how proud I am; seeing our little girl do what I never could makes me so proud that I can't even begin to try and explain it, but, shouldn't she be taking, I don't know, a year off or something? She's got the job at the bakery, too, she's so independent and…

"I worry sometimes. Is there something we're missing? Fremmie seems fine, every time I've talked to her she seems to be shipshape… heck, every time I've peaked into her room she's been fit as a fiddle, too. I just don't want our little girl to load herself up too much, too quickly."

Hamazura Rikou spoke a series of words that reassured Hamazura Shiage; not because of the way that she spoke them, or because of the words she'd chosen specifically. Shiage was soothed simply because he knew his wife's, the adoptive mother of Fremea's words were true.

"If Fremea-chan needs our help, she knows she can come to us. I suppose that provides an answer to our previous quandary, doesn't it?

"Except, it doesn't. I don't quite think it does. I want to talk to Fremea-chan about her feelings, about what might be going on in that head of hers, so full of hormones and all sorts of crazy chemicals. That's one thing Fremea-chan might be too shy to come to talk to us about. Academics and one's work life are very different from one's deep, inner feelings."

"Hamazura Rikou, philosopher," Shiage spoke, chuckling quietly under his breath. "I agree, though. Wholeheartedly. Let's…"

The married couple's conversation was interrupted by the repeated, rhythmic shrieks of Shiage's smartphone, apparently dwelling within the right pocket of his pajama pants.

"Ooga freakin' booga," Shiage mock-cursed. "If it's those window-glazing people again, I'm going to freak out on them. They need to stop bothering people like this; this isn't how you get business! Telling you, this is some… eh? Well fuck me sideways."

"Tonight," Rikou spoke, her lips curling into a seductive grin. "Who's calling? "Window-glazing people" again?"

"Mugino," Shiage admitted, with a shrug. It certainly wasn't who he expected, and it certainly wasn't the most fun or interesting person in the world to hold a conversation with.

At this, Rikou raised an eyebrow. That certainly was different. Of course, what, or more accurately, who she was looking for was obvious; the important matter at hand was whether or not she could be trusted to be around, or even speak to the little person she likely sought to speak with. The reluctant facial expression that her husband wore suggested that he agreed with his wife on the matter.

"Answer?"

"… answer, I guess. It's not fair to keep Daichi-chan away from his Shizuri-nee. As long as she behaves. Don't set the call on speaker, please? I don't want Daichi-chan hearing Mugino's filth-mouth going rapid-fire."

"Ight. Why do I get the feeling we're going to regret this someday?"

Hamazura Shiage pressed down on his smartphone's virtual "Answer Call" button with only a bit more than "a little" reluctance. Setting the device on his right shoulder, he leaned the right side of his face against his phone, as he began to assist a very grateful Hamazura Rikou. Again, she planted another kiss to her husband's form, this time to his exposed neck.

"Hamazura. Er… Hamazura. Which Hamazura am I speaking with? Top of the fucking morning."

Shiage couldn't help but produce a chuckle. "Always a pleasure, Mugino… Shiage, Hamazura, if it wasn't obvious. So, uh, howsit?"

On the other end of the line, Hamazura Shiage could practically sense Mugino Shizuri swallowing her pride. For a moment, she might've choked on it, but it ended up going down in the end.

"Fine. I mean… alright. Good enough I guess. I'm alive, right? These idiots around me are alive, too, in case you were wondering."

"Hiiiiiiii, Hamazura~!"

"Basically, I wish I was Takit… Hamazura two point oh. Being a cute homemaker beats running around 'blastin' fools' any day."

There certainly was something to consider, there. Shiage couldn't help but begin to think about it, as he drowned out the sounds of the three young women verbally assaulting one another – it seemed as if Frenda Seivelun had started the war of words, an unsurprising fact in and of itself.

It had been nearly over a decade since he'd first been tossed into ITEM as the designated butt monkey. It'd been nearly over a decade since he'd first met Takitsubo Rikou, as she'd been known then, the only one among them who'd shown him even a modicum of respect. It'd been nearly a decade since he and Takitsubo Rikou had risked their lives to protect one another from the dark world that had sought to tear them apart.

And yet, Mugino Shizuri, Kinuhata Saiai and Frenda Seivelun were still doing it. They were still knee-deep in the darkness, or what remained of the darkness. Still, they were 'on duty', seemingly of their own volitions.

"OI! HAMAZURAAAAAAAA!"

Hamazura Shiage's inner contemplations would've continued if Mugino Shizuri's shout hadn't broken him from his trance-like state. Apparently, Rikou had heard it as well, as she turned to face her husband with an irritated, if offended look on her face. Shiage couldn't quite find himself agreeing, there; there was little to be offended by. Mugino was being typical Mugino.

Then, Hamazura Rikou asked a question of her husband. She asked in the sweetest, most innocuous tone possible; it almost sounded as if she was asking a question of her son, rather than of her fully-grown husband.

He couldn't help but chuckle as a chill ran down his spine, goosebumps beginning to cover his skin, from its beginnings to its ends.

"Shiage, dear, could I see your phone, please?"

The result would be entertaining, at least; and who was he to deny his wife of her ventilation? He willingly handed the device off to his beloved as he began to dry the last of the sopping dishes and silverware.

"Hamazura?! Are you even there?!"

"Hello, Mugino."

Mugino Shizuri found herself in another unfamiliar and oddly humbling situation. She felt the chill of death fall over her and consume her mortal form, which shuddered beneath the oppressive aura exuded by the young woman who wasn't even present within the room in which ITEM dwelled.

"H-Hamazura."

"I'm not going to beat around the bush with you, Mugino. If you're going to call my household and speak to us, for whatever purpose you might have, you're going to treat us with the respect we deserve. You might be able to shout at whoever you like when you're on the job, dealing with the empty-headed suits, but you won't bring your aggression to bear against my family. I will NOT permit it. Any questions?"

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Hamazura? Keep making me proud. You aren't quite the subdued little housewife I sometimes find myself thinking you are. Not yet."

Hamazura Rikou looked over either of her shoulders; Daichi-chan was nowhere in sight. He must've been in the bathroom with his sister, or in his sister's room. Perhaps he'd taken to doing his own thing in his own room, as unlikely as that was. Her precious child, the love between Rikou and her husband made flesh certainly wasn't far.

Since he wasn't in earshot, Hamazura Rikou could speak her mind. In a hushed tone, she aggressively whispered.

"Fuck. You. Mugino."

Pressing her finger down on the phone's virtual "End Call" button, Rikou carefully handed her husband's phone back to him before she produced a guttural, aggravated growl.

"You're too complacent sometimes."

"Whowhatnow? Am I in trouble?"

"… no," Rikou awkwardly giggled, wrapping her arms around her husband's shoulders. "You're not in trouble, you big, loveable goof."

Hamazura Fremea had to admit that her younger brother must've had more patience than anyone else in the universe. As she fluffed his hair, Daichi stood before the large, body-length mirror in his elder sister's room. As her fingertips gently passed over his scalp, Daichi quietly giggled, shivers running up and down his form. Perhaps that was the key to his patience; the boy was obviously enjoying the physically-pleasing attention.

Clad in a dark button-up shirt, which was open, exposing a simplistic white top beneath it, the shirt's collar was carefully tucked, set into place with precision and attention to detail. For legwear, Hamazura Daichi wore a pair of dark-colored denim jeans, suited for his five-year-old form, with dark socks to match his attire; all of his own choosing.

Close to him, his sister had gotten herself dressed to impress, as well, even if she wasn't necessarily trying to impress anyone. Fremea had chosen for herself a blue and white plaid top, its long sleeves rolled up to her elbows. For legwear, she'd chosen something a bit more daring than usual; Hamazura Fremea wore skin-tight, light-colored jeans. Though they appeared worn, they were in fact a recent purchase.

"Looking sharp," Fremea stated, as she crouched beside her younger brother. She placed her hand to her chin and stroked it thoughtfully. Hamazura Fremea looked the boy up and down one last time before she made her way behind him, and set either of her hands upon his shoulders.

"You're going to be a lady-killer one of these days, you know. I'd argue that you already are. My friends adooore you. Of course, they can't have you, bug boy; you're all mine. My cute, loving, sweet little brother."

Hamazura Daichi turned to face his sister, and then took her into an embrace, as best as his little arms could. With Fremea crouching before him, Daichi could better place a loving little kiss to her cheek.

Fremea probably couldn't have blushed any harder if she'd wanted to. Smiling from ear to ear, Hamazura Fremea wrapped her arms around her younger brother's form and hugged him back. She rubbed the side of her face against the crown of his head.

"Love you, bug boy. Love you so much."

"I love you too, Fremmie!"

Eventually, a reluctant Fremea managed to break her end of the embrace, though Daichi seemed to have a bit of trouble breaking his own end. Once he had, however, he was quickly off, likely to visit their parents, or to go on some sort of supervised "adventures" with Noggin the dog.

Fremea herself had plenty to keep her busy. She sat herself down quite politely before her gaming console, which had set itself into a standby mode. She flicked the left thumbstick of the console's controller, and her television screen roared back to life, the title screen of Danger Zone still visible.

A smiling Hamazura Fremea navigated to the console's home menu, where she hunted down its built-in video calling app, EyeSee. Though Qoozle Calling was installed, nobody who was anyone used that broken-down hunk of junk.

With her unwieldy headphones set upon her head, Hamazura Fremea launched the application, which, unlike Qoozle Calling didn't hang immediately upon launching. Instead, it took Fremea directly to the colorful and lively home screen, where contacts, recent text-based messaged, and recent calls were located, each divided under their own sub-menus.

Apparently, Last Order had mysteriously become an early riser, when she'd never been before, as there were a few missed calls in the "recent interactions" sub-menu from her EyeSee contact.

There was something quite different about her display picture, as well. The previous had been one of Last Order's many selfies; as if she didn't flood her social media accounts with enough of those.

This, however, was different. It was so strange and baffling in its construction that Fremea couldn't help but throw her head back and cackle like a witch when she saw who was featured in the display picture.

Aside from Kamijou Index, who Fremea was aware was staying with Last Order, some sort of booze-filled sleepover adventure she was sure, Accelerator, the number one ranked esper in all of Academy City sat between the two young women.

Index, whose face was as red as beet was pulling either of her cheeks with her hands' fingers, her eyes rolled back into her head, while Last Order's left hand tugged on Accelerator's ear, her right hand evidently holding the device she used to snap the selfie with. Her face was beet red as well, even more red than Index's.

Between them, Accelerator looked absolutely exasperated, as if he needed to lay down and take a nap. Then again, Accelerator always needed to take a nap.

With the aid of the controller's thumbstick that actually navigated through menus, Fremea navigated towards the 'missed interactions' menu within Last Order's EyeSee profile. There was a total of three, each quite long for Last Order, whose messages were, on most occasions, hardly anything to write home about.

"FREMEA! USING VOICE TO TEXT BECAUSE ME AND INDEX ARE TURNT AS [expletive filtered] MISAKA MISAKA ADMITS, SOMEWHAT EMARASSED THAT THE REST OF THE NETWORK IS CURRENT LAUGHING AT MISAKA, ESPECIALLY THE MALICIOUS ONE.

"ARE YOU WATCHING LITTLE CATHOLIC BIBLE… SCIENCE… THE STUPID SHOW?! MISAKA MISAKA INQUIRES, CURIOUS AS TO WHETHER HER FRIEND IS TUNING INTO THE UNINTENTIONALLY HILARIOUS AND LOW-BUDGET BROADCAST! GET ON THAT [expletive filtered]!"

The second message was one which was text-based; apparently, the idea of using EyeSee's Voice-to-Text feature wasn't appealing to the exceedingly intoxicated young women. Fremea could only shake her head and giggle to herself as her eyes' vision dashed from one side of the paragraph, with its many horribly misspelled words to the other.

"Dudebro it's Indeckx! Omg LCBSOT is tslkin aboyt fuckun PREDESTINATION! Im crying rn. This is tou good! Tune the fyuck in!"

The third message, which was text-based and made up of a series of "HAs" caught Fremea off guard, initially.

Indeed; Fremea shared her friends' sentiment. Little Catholic Bible Science Outsiders Teaching had reached a new level of warped with its inept tackling of predestination, an already controversial subject in and of itself.

With a sense of excitement in her higher mind's thoughts, Fremea navigated towards the small option in the profile menu that would allow her to call Last Order; assuming Last Order was up.

Selecting the "call now" option by pressing the "start" button on her controller, Fremea sat back, unfolding her legs as the television screen before her was suddenly awash in many bright, calming colors.

While the screen had mostly become blue, like the color of the sky on a particularly beautiful summer's day, there were a number of bright, fluorescent yellow semicircles which faded in and out, slowly moving from end of the screen to the other. In the corner, Hamazura Fremea could see a moving image of herself, captured by the camera peripheral plugged into one of her gaming console's ports.

A soft hum, like the sound of a bird quietly singing to itself was produced, emanating from within either cup of the young woman's headset, as EyeSee attempted to connect a video call.

The call was indeed connected, but Hamazura Fremea almost wished it hadn't been.

Within Last Order's room, Index, Last Order herself, and Misaka Worst had gathered around the camera which must've belonged to Last Order's tablet, or perhaps to her phone. The device had been stood up on some surface or another, but the surroundings weren't what was important.

What was important, awkward and terrifying all at the same time was the fact that the three girls were clad in very revealing and very sensual lingerie.

While Index had apparently chosen to garb herself in a fetishized mock-up of a Serafuku, exposing her midriff, which even by the standards of Fremea, a heterosexual female was a beautiful thing indeed, Last Order had boldly dressed (or had been dressed) in something a bit more provocative. Clad up to her neck in a dark, soft-looking fishnet material, the young woman's nipples were protected from view only by something that could barely be classified as a bra; either of its cups consisted of little more than a singular black-colored, five-pointed star.

Arguably, however, it was Misaka Worst who stole the show.

Her fit, sumptuous and naturally-gorgeous form was adorned in a shining, black leather corset which hugged and accented her curvy form, with a pair of black woolen stockings to match, in coloration at least.

"Fremea-Tama looks like she just saw a ghost," Misaka Worst stated, as she pressed either of her hands to her breasts, pushing them together, as if to mock the blonde-haired, blue-eyed young woman on the other end. "Misaka's got the best tits here."

"Dudebruh," Index casually remarked, as she casually dangled her legs back and forth, from her perch on the side of Last Order's bed. "About time you got back to us. Didn't know what to do, so we ended up doing… whatever this is. Thinking outside the box is fun, sometimes, what can I say? We're guilty as charged! DARING! TAKE CHANCES, MAN! LIVE A LITTLE! You should've seen Accelerator's face when he walked in! The blood started pouring like Niagara Falls!

"So, anyways, listen up. You with us, or against us, dudebruh? Last Order and I have some ideas; Worst had some, but she's going to be a total lame-o and not roll with us. Shameful, huh?"

Last Order nodded her head, as if she was about to make some great point at an all-important debate. "MISAKA has contacted some of our friends, most of whom should be able to make it, MISAKA MISAKA explains, in an attempt to bring Hamazura-chan in on MISAKA's and her dear friend's evil schemes."

Hamazura Fremea had finally managed to shake off the shock of seeing her close friends in such revealing attire; it was the initial shock that was worse than the realization, the latter being quite humorous in and of itself, despite the awkwardness that came along with it, as a "bonus bundle" of sorts.

"Ain't NOTHIN' changed," Fremea mockingly spoke, purposefully deepening her voice. "I can grab my parents' "fly-ass whip", so we won't have to worry about transport. I, uh…"

Without warning, and without her knowledge, the young woman's face was suddenly glowing red, as vast amounts of blood rushed into it. Fremea lowered her gaze to the floor as she began to fiddle awkwardly with her fingers.

"I m-might be bringing a guest along, too. Y-you guys have met him once or twice before… y-you remember… S-S… S-Shin, r-right? U-Ueda-san?"

Almost instantaneously, Last Order had stuffed her face into the camera which acted as a window into the young woman's room. Her facial expression was one of both joy and approval, which only seemed to grow as the clone of Misaka Mikoto tilted her head from one side to the other.

"MISAKA thinks both Hamazura-san and Ueda-san are soulmates, MISAKA MISAKA states, voicing her TRUE and HONEST opinion of you and Ueda-san as a potential item. MISAKA could play wingman, if you'd like, MISAKA generously offers."

"Dudebruh," Index began, stuffing her own face into the camera as she pushed her form against Last Order's. Soon, Worst's bosom was placed atop both of their heads as the elder-younger clone cackled aloud like a deranged witch. Oddly, neither of the young women seemed to notice, or mind.

"Everyone who knows the both of you can see as plain as DAY that you want the D. Of course, if you're going to actually get the D, you're going to want to use protection in order to avoid any… hm, complications, but I'm sure you know that. Y'know, even if it's "against the rules" to engage in sexual conduct outside of wedlock, according to official Church doctrine, nobody listens to that crap anyways. Look at the porno industry! If you think for a second that I don't let loose with a nice, explicit website and a…"

"OKAY, TOO MUCH INFORMATION!" Fremea cried aloud, repeatedly shaking her head from left to right.

Strangely enough, it was Misaka Worst who spoke the words which contained the most sense out of the trio. For the wildly giggling and heavily-flustered Fremea, the day was already proving itself to be both fun and full of surprises.

"Fremea-Tama, it's 2014; stating the fact that the time period we reside is in, in fact, the current year isn't at all convoluted and idiotic. Misaka is also absolutely not being sarcastic, at all.

"If you're feeling Ueda-Tama, grab Ueda-Tama and put a ring on him before someone else takes him away. If not, accept your place as a cuckolded sissy. Trust Misaka, Misaka often ironically watches the Dysfunctional Wedding Network's livestreams. Misaka wonders if she'll see Fremea-Tama and Ueda-Tama on there."

"WOAHHEYHOLDITGETYOURBREASTSOFFOFMYHEAD!"

"MISAKA is being sexually assaulted, MISAKA MISAKA exclaims in terror, fleeing from the useless collections of fat possessed by the Malicious One!"

"Misaka's beautiful, perfect tits aren't useless. Misaka's tits are full of delicious milk, just waiting to be fed to tou-san."

Fremea was in tears; her laughter was almost becoming painful. The sides of her torso and the sides of her head had rocketed off into orbit, as her lungs screamed out for air.

Finally, after a few moments, Hamazura Fremea managed to get herself under control, as tears of laughter continued to drip down her cheeks.

"A-alright… I'm coming to get you loons. Give me, like, forty-five minutes at the absolute most, and I'll be there. Assuming I can get the car, that is. Shouldn't be an issue, I don't think my parents are going anywhere. OkayseeyousoonloveyouloveyouloveyouBYE!"

The obviously excited nun, Index, thrust her right hand, balled into a fist upwards towards the ceiling. "HURRY UP!"

Hamazura Fremea did exactly that. She quickly rose from her seat upon her bedroom's hardwood flooring, producing a soft grunt as her muscles obeyed her higher mind's commands. She quickly powered her gaming console down, and flicked off the lightswitch in her room; her bed would have to remain messy. It'd get made whenever it'd get made. Fremea wasn't about to stress over it.

She did, however, want to look at one thing before she left, especially if she was going to contact… him. There was an amount of inspiration that she'd need, especially with the strange feelings that were flowing throughout her being.

Bending forward, Fremea fell to her hands and knees as she began to search beneath her bed, for her small collection of personal treasures. Though monetarily worthless in and of themselves, they were priceless in emotional value.

As such, it only made sense for Fremea to engage 'panic mode', when the tiny, plain white sack she kept said items in had been displaced, and apparently opened. Daichi would have no reason to go rooting around in his elder sister's belongings, as he was made privy of the treasures' existence some time prior in order to avoid a mishap born of a five-year-old's curiosity. Fremea herself certainly wouldn't have misplaced such precious trinkets.

There was only one suspect; immediately, Fremea's worries turned from her own personal belongings and to the well-being of the family's precious, fur-covered, adopted son.

Before she was even aware of it, Fremea had fled from her room, her sock-clad feet slapping against the flooring beneath her. She wasn't about to start openly panicking, but, within, Fremea's heart was beating a mile a minute, and her forehead was becoming cooler, as the beginnings of sweat dripped down her bow.

"Daddy? Mom?!" Fremea spoke, attempting to keep herself composed; she wasn't doing the greatest job. There was a hint of panic in her tone of voice, even as she did her best to fight it back. "Dad?!"

Within an instant, more of a blur than a human being for a moment, and like a superhero swooping in to rescue the damsel in distress within the pages of a Western comic book, Hamazura Shiage had arrived to save the day, his great, comforting arms wrapping themselves around his daughter's form, taking her into a warm and unbreakable embrace. Just as Fremea had found herself in the area separating the home's sitting area from its kitchen area, Shiage had heard his daughter's distressed calls for help before he'd seen her.

"Gorgeous, angel, woooaahh. Relax, breathe. You're okay. I got you. What's the matter, huh? What's got you so spooked, Frem?"

"Noggin…" Fremea began.

But then, sitting upon the kitchen table's surface, Fremea's eyes' vision fell upon her pilfered treasures, and she breathed a great sigh of relief. Even if Noggin himself wasn't in sight, he was alright. Daichi, who'd sat himself upon his rump in the home's kitchen area looked up at his sister with an unreadable look on his face.

"Oh… goodness," Fremea huffed. "I thought… Noggin… under my bed… missing. Couldn't have been Daichi… wouldn't do that a-anyways. Wait. M-mom? D-daddy? Did you o-open that… l-locket…?"

The anxiousness faded within Hamazura Fremea, as her father's fingers ran gently through her hair, dancing against the surface of her scalp. From behind her, Fremea's mother wrapped her own arms around both her troubled daughter and her husband.

Then, around Fremea's legs, a pair of little arms were thrown.

"FAMILY HUG!" a blissfully ignorant Daichi exclaimed.

Hamazura Rikou repeatedly kissed the back of her daughter's head, as her protective embrace tightened.

"Fremea-chan," Rikou began, speaking comfortingly and with the utmost softness, "Noggin did deliver these objects to us, for reasons unknown to your father and I, but Noggin didn't swallow them. We'll have to wash them off, though.

"Fremea-chan, angel, you don't have to hide from us. Even if we're only a few years older than you are, we're… we're your family. Do you not think that we're overjoyed that our little girl is in love? Of course we are! Having what we see as confirmation for this is… such a beautiful thing!

"Fremea-chan, we'd never try to stop you from living your life; but there are some things your father and I think we should talk about, not only as a family, but as adults having a conversation. Love can be a volatile and sometimes unpredictable thing. You need to be prepared before you jump headlong into something that could affect the rest of your life."

For a while, Hamazura Fremea quietly allowed herself to be held by her parents; while Daichi had broken his end of the embrace, he hadn't gone far. With a collection of his toys carefully grouped together, out of the way in the kitchen area, he'd taken to quietly and peacefully playing on his own, his imagination flowing freely.

There wasn't a whole lot that she could've said; Hamazura Fremea could've written an entire novel with only the raw emotion that was coursing through her body, and through her mind.

In the end, there were four initial words that came to her mind.

"Mom? Daddy? T-thank you.

"L-let's do that. Let's talk. I don't have a-any reason to hide anything f-from you. It's kind of… well, kind of e-embarrassing, but… but I know you won't judge me.

"B-by the way. Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, angel."

"Go right ahead, Fremea-chan. We're listening, like we always have and always will."

"Can I borrow the car?"

Hamazura Shiage broke away, laughing aloud, only to pinch either of his daughter's cheeks with the utmost gentleness that his strong, powerful hands could apply. With her giggling mother's nod of approval, Shiage spoke.

"No. No way, you're BANNED! Just kidding, angel, of course you can. Just don't get the…"

Shiage leaned in, close, his lips suddenly pressed against his daughter's ear. The sensation caused Fremea to shiver.

"Pimp Mobile… into a fender-bender."

"I won't, daddy," Fremea spoke, softly, breathing a sigh of relief. "Love you, mom, daddy."

With the intention of heading back towards her room in order to gather essentials such as her purse and her hat, the young woman placed a kiss to her mother's cheeks before she took her leave from the kitchen area.

As if taking lessons from the same figurative book her father proverbially read from, Fremea became a human blur as she slipped either of her sock-clad feet into her canvas shoes sitting before the home's front door, which she just as swiftly, but gently closed behind her, clicking its four outer locks into place with her key.

The adventure began there and then.


	24. It Begins II

And, once the "mating ritual of Kami-yan" was complete, once both Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki were held tightly in one another's arms under the covers of their bed, in their Paradise, once slumber had claimed them both…

Touma's eyelids slid open; yet he was in total, absolute darkness.

Instantly, he was reminded of those infinite hells. Still, ten years later, he was haunted. Still he reeled mentally from the sight of this darkness, his arms grabbing at nothing, emptiness, the void.

"W-W…. W-W… Where is… Misaki…?"

Then, he heard it. A voice that was not a voice; a disembodied, semi-speaking _thing_ which reached out to him. Its vocalizations emerged from every which way at once.

" _Hear me, Bearer. Hear me…"_

"It's you!" Touma cried aloud; the vocalizations were distant. They echoed throughout this infinite blackness, as if the source of those vocalizations was distant. Touma could see nothing, but somehow simply knew that originator was far away.

" _Don't awaken. You are in no danger, Bearer."_

"I'll… I'll try not to! I'm listening! Don't drift from me this time, I NEED to talk to you!"

In this infinite darkness, Kamijou Touma clenched his fists. He darted; but didn't get far at all. It was as if he was trying to slog through waters which rose beyond his waist. Yet, there was not a drop of any liquid to be found within this expanse of nothing.

"Can you still hear me?!"

" _Yes, Bearer… Don't fade from me, yet. Being in contact with you directly is, admittedly, cathartic. So much have we wrought, so much have we suffered, together. Yet, apart. I consider you my friend, as much as such is possible."_

"I couldn't agree more… Imagine Breaker…? You've never told me your name! We've… We've never been able to speak for that long! You've got to have one. "Dragon"? What are you called?!"

" _Call me whatever it is you wish, Bearer. Titles are unimportant."_

The voice was getting closer. Or, perhaps, Touma was getting closer to it.

"I want…"

Even in this place where there was nothing – a dreamscape, surely – Touma felt that familiar lump beginning to form in his throat. It nearly threatened to choke him out, so large was it becoming.

"We… My wife and I… Misaki… All we want is to… To just have a child of our own. A child we can cherish, and teach, and spoil rotten, and raise together, and love together…"

" _And you seek my permission? Why? You need not. From what does your continued desperation to speak with me derive, Bearer?"_

"I don't need your permission! I need your word!"

Tears began to flee freely from Touma's eyes, down his cheeks. Each disappeared before they could fall into the nothingness which the young man could somehow walk upon, as if it was earth, or Academy City's cobbled walkways.

"All I need is your word… That nothing will ever happen to our child, because of you."

" _You and you alone are my Bearer. This is how it shall be until you are freed from your mortal coil."_

"And then…?"

" _And then a new Bearer shall be named. A new Bearer shall herald my coming."_

"That's exactly what I'm terrified of… I would never want my child to inherit the misfortune I had to deal with all my life. It's what kept Misaki and I from trying for so long."

Though his vision was clouded, Kamijou Touma could see _it_. _It_ was massive. An enormous, snaking thing, covered in purplish-white scales. Its gaping maw, filled to the absolute brim, and nearly overflowing with sharpened, jagged teeth, its draconic visage was threatening. Monstrous. Its eyes were empty, pulsating with some unknowable energy which occasionally crackled from within its quasi-empty sockets. Horns protruded from the back of its head, curled like those of a ram.

"It's you…"

" _Much time since we last looked upon one another, Bearer."_

"Not long enough. No offense to you, but… This life I have with Misaki, with Index and Othi-chan… I prefer it a _whole_ lot when I compare it to what we used to deal with. I just want to be with my wife. I just want to love her, and take care of her, and share my everything with her… All we want is to share our love, together, with a child. A child that's ours. Is that really so unreasonable?"

Cracking a smirk, forcing the expression upon his face even as that very same face became even more damp, soaked with free-falling tears, Kamijou Touma reached out to _it._ It slithered forward, like some sort of predatory serpent coasting upon the earth, parting blades of grass. Its enormous, scale-covered snout was soon pressed against Touma's outstretched right hand.

"C'mon. I don't want to be some shounen protagonist who wanders around picking fights. I've just barely dodged the "harem protagonist" route… Such misfortune. This Kamijou-san is just burnt right out with all of that."

" _This is the longest we have maintained contact, Bearer… I regret to inform you, yet, that I feel you fading. The world of the waking is about to take you again."_

"It's been really good talking to you. Whenever we talk like this, no matter how short of a time it is, no matter how worthless it might seem, I feel like we get to know each other a little bit better."

Indeed, _it_ was evidently speaking the truth; Kamijou Touma could see the beginnings of cracks forming within the darkness. Emerging from something beyond the darkness, golden-white light was beginning to burst through. The infinite void was shattering like glass; and for a moment, Touma thought he might begin to fall, with nothing to stand upon.

" _Bearer, before you depart once again…"_

"Hey, WAIT! WAIT! Imagine Breaker! I'm… I'm having a hard time hearing you! C'mon, say something! I'm trying my best, here!"

" _You have my word, Bearer… Just as you sought._ ** _No_** _harm shall come upon your offspring. Do as you will."_

And, so, Kamijou Touma awakened…

The golden-white light had fully punctured the infinite void; inky black tendrils had faded from whence they came, and as if pulled, Kamijou Touma returned to the world of the waking with a start. His brow was cold, plastered in sweat.

Touma's eyelids shot open, and briefly his eyes' vision was stunted by the glowing, golden rays of sunlight beaming in through the window of the Paradise he and his beloved wife shared. The curtains, having been cast apart, allowed the rays' brilliance to shine down upon all within the married couple's bedroom.

It was so warm, so comforting, and so familiar; their bedroom wasn't large, but it didn't have to be.

The spacious bed in which Touma had awoken with his most precious Misaki clinging tightly to him, her arms embracing him and a warm, adoring smile stretching from one ear and to the other upon her face, took up most of the room's space. To its immediate left there was a small walk-in closet that contained the married couple's various outfits. To the immediate right, there was a large shelf, which was almost entirely occupied by baubles of emotional significance to the couple.

One shelf contained Misaki's wedding veil, her gown, which was neatly folded, and the high-heeled shoes Misaki had worn on the day in which she had left the name "Shokuhou Misaki" behind. Next to it was the neatly folded tuxedo which Touma had worn on the day that everything changed for the better. On another shelf there were various trinkets, some of which had been won by the couple at arcades, and some of which had been purchased as gifts.

There was one trinket in particular which sat in a space of its own, of such utmost importance was it.

It was a long, thin silver whistle, which was attached to a thin silver chain. Contained within an ornately-decorated box, resting on its own upon a bed of cotton, the cheap, dinky little plastic whistle meant more to Kamijou Misaki than she ever could have vocalized.

Whatever panic had been now fell from Touma's shoulders, as if he'd cast off a cloak bound around him. It fell away like so much chaff before gusting wind.

Turning as he could without disrupting his wife's embrace, Touma peered at the digital clock which sat upon the nearby nightstand. According to that device, it was nine o'clock AM, right on the nose.

" _It's not **that** early. Besides, I'm sure Misaki wouldn't mind, anyways."_

Wrapping his own arms around Kamijou Misaki – his own embrace must have ceased at some point, likely during his habitual nightly tossing and turning – Kamijou Touma closed what little distance there was between them and, pressing his lips gently against his beloved wife's forehead, parted her thick, luscious light blonde bangs. Several kisses he placed there, resting the palms of his hands upon Misaki's defined shoulder blades.

Feeling his wife's bosom pressing against his own chest, their warmth being transferred from Misaki's body to his own, Touma, much to his surprise, felt very little in the way of lewd sensations, or otherwise 'unsavoury' thoughts which could lead into such sensations, inevitably.

Soon, she stirred; and as soon as Misaki laid her golden, starry eyes upon her prince, the smile which had been present upon her features widened even further. Groggily, barely awake, Misaki pushed herself upward and, moaning quietly beneath her breath, directed her husband's face down, towards her. Their lips connected.

"Good morning, my prince," Misaki purred between deep, passionate kisses; husband and wife nearly merged into one singular entity, so wrapped in each other were they. "Every morning I awaken in this bed with you is yet another day in Heaven…"

"Good morning beautiful," Touma responded as best he could, given the swift, repeated kisses being placed upon his lips. She kissed him deeply, almost forcing herself forward upon him; the young man's arms found their way around his wife's hips, and his hands found their way below, to her plump, defined posterior. He hardly minded her forwardness. "You know, Misaki, every time I look at you, I appreciate and love you just a bit more. If that was possible. Didn't think it was, honestly."

A crimson blush rushed into Kamijou Misaki's face; she produced a soft, drawn-out sigh, and her smile impossibly widened further. "My adoration and appreciation of you, my prince, is unfathomable…"

Lowering himself and beginning to kiss his wife's neck as she gently ran her fingertips along his scalp, parting locks of his black, unspiked hair, Touma took Misaki into a powerful embrace.

"Hey, precious. Can I talk to you about something? I don't know if it was a dream, or if I should interpret it as something more. Still kind of feels like I was half-there, half-not."

He smirked, slightly.

"No oddly specific prophecies involving MacGuffins, though, I promise."

She giggled aloud; she couldn't help it. It was a lame joke, and Kamijou Misaki knew it; yet she couldn't hope to stop the giggling that fled from her lips. "I suppose that is a good thing, all considered."

"You bet," Touma spoke, tightening his embrace slightly, even further. Misaki responded in kind, holding her husband close, and gently kissing the top of his head. Gently stroking the back of her husband's head as she kissed the top of it, she came in response.

"Is all well, my prince?"

"Just fine. I'll give you the rundown."

"Please. I am always eager to listen and help you in any way I can. Come, husband, tell me all you need to. My ears are yours for as long as you might need them."

And, so, Kamijou Touma told his doting wife all that had transpired; the vast, incomprehensibly vast void which had come to surround him once he'd fallen into slumber. His terror, his desperation after being reminded of those infinite hells. The coming of 'Imagine Breaker' – or whatever unnamable force resided within it, having taken the shape of a great, draconic creature – and the promise sworn by 'Imagine Breaker'.

Touma could see it for himself; Misaki was overcome with hope. Her eyes glistened, and, for a moment's time, her mouth fell slightly agape. She was taken aback, but, quickly, her smile was returning; and it was an expression beautiful beyond comprehension.

"I… I would never have any reason to doubt or disbelieve you, husband, because you have never given me such… Dreaming _is_ your standard means of communicating with that horrid curse in your right hand, is it not? I… Oh, Touma, my prince, my life-partner… The one who has my heart and my soul…"

"We're on the same page then, Misaki?"

"Is there a time when we are not?"

"Eheheh. Fair point."

Placing a hand gently upon his wife's cheek, and having his own hand taken into hers, their fingers interlocking tightly, Touma spoke, then.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking, beautiful…"

"Yes! Yes, Touma I am! I want nothing more! It is what I have truly wanted! I will not submit to fear any longer!"

"I think talking about it with Index and Othi-chan is worthwhile. They're our family, too. Maybe they have perspectives and insight that can help."

Nodding sagely, Misaki's crimson blush deepened; her arms were immediately thrown around her husband's back as she clambered atop him. Pressing her bosom into her husband's chest, she approached, and hovered her face mere inches from Touma's own.

"Of course, my prince. Index and Othinus are two among the wisest we know; to not consult them and seek their valuable wisdom, and input, would be foolhardy indeed."

Kamijou Touma couldn't help it; staring into his wife's eyes, their respective gazes meeting comfortably, adoringly, Touma took Kamijou Misaki's hands into his own, and held them tightly. Their fingers interlocked once more, as tight as tight could be.

"… Dear God. Misaki… Did you get _more_ beautiful overnight? If you keep this up, you might break something."

"Oh, husband," Misaki stuttered. "Touma, my prince… If you keep on like this, you'll… Oh my."

She giggled; even as warm, wet tears of unadulterated joy began to fall freely from her eyes. She blinked them away.

"I love you so very much, Touma… You bring such wonderful emotions upon me. My loving, affectionate, gentle, precious husband. I wish only to spend the rest of eternity with you, and make manifest our love in the form of a beautiful child… Of our very own.

"I wish to provide for them the life we never had. The innocence, my prince. Innocence is that which we both lost at too young an age. It hardened the both of us to the perils of this world, and to this City as it was in the past, yet…"

She paused; rather than simply being too overcome by emotion to speak, Kamijou Misaki just couldn't find the words, for the life of her.

"If you could go back and do it again, without everything horrible that ever happened to us, Misaki, beautiful, you would?"

"… Correct, my most precious husband. Correct."

Allowing herself to drift downward – knowing well enough that her husband's massive, powerful frame would have little in the way of difficulty when it came to supporting her smaller, more petite body – Kamijou Misaki pressed her lips to her husband's own; releasing his wife's hands, Touma's arms soon wrapped around her back.

"Such talk is inappropriate for our Paradise, however, my prince."

"Couldn't agree more, beautiful. Is there something else you'd want to talk about instead?"

"How about children's names, my prince? In the spirit of promoting fertility…"

Touma had to admit, it wasn't something the two had spoken about much. Why, he couldn't say for sure. Certainly, simply speaking about names for a potential child wouldn't bring about any kind of dark curse or foreboding bleakness. Imagine Breaker, or whatever resided within it, was not an overtly hostile force.

Though, sometimes, both Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki were lead to believe it might've been.

"I like the name "Natsumi". Pretty; it means "summer beauty". Did mom ever tell you? That's what…"

"… that is what you were to be named, if you had been born a proper young lady," Kamijou Misaki concluded, finishing her husband's sentence for him. "Shiina really did think of everything. A true mother if there ever was one. Shiina was much more a mother to me than the woman who gave me life, that much is certain, my most beloved husband. She… She is my inspiration. I aspire, one day, to be even half as good a mother as Kamijou Shiina."

Promptly poking her husband's nose and giggling, causing him to chuckle gently in response, Misaki continued, "And I ought to say, Shiina did raise a wonderful young man. You, Touma, my most precious husband, are a gentlemen above all other gentlemen. You are the ultimate. I could never want another, for I have all I could ever need, right here…"

He kissed his wife's cheeks repeatedly, deepening her crimson blush. Touma's fingers danced along his wife's back, causing her to shiver in pleasure.

"I don't think I tell you this enough, Misaki, and maybe I tell you too much; but I'll just say it again and go on the record. You're the _best_ wife a guy could ever ask for. You're patient, loving, intelligent, strong-willed… Unconditionally loving… You know how to listen, and how to really pick me back up when everything is just going wrong. You're always there for me, beautiful, and…"

He swallowed, harder than he'd thought he would've. Misaki's eyelids had widened, and her glistening eyes loosed teardrops of unbridled joy. Her quivering smile brought Touma in, and he kissed his wife's lips.

"Really, you're just the best there is. And I'm so grateful that you're mine. I'm so grateful for this life we have together, Misaki. I wouldn't trade it for the world, or the universe. Is that selfish of me? Definitely. But I really just don't care at all. All I want is you! You're the only one I've ever wanted, beautiful. That's it."

"You can never say things like this to me too often; you can never say _anything_ to me too often. I love the sound of your voice, my prince… I love listening to you, and talking with you. I love sharing opinions with you, and discussing any and all matters with you. I will _always_ be here to listen to you, and talk with you, Touma, and…"

Though she cried freely, Misaki couldn't restrict the overwhelming joy which pushed those tears outward. It was a force powerful beyond understanding, one which soared inside of her.

"I adore our marriage _so_ very much, Kamijou Touma. Thank you for being both my husband _and_ my best friend… I **love** you!"

"This marriage, Misaki, beautiful… It's genuinely **the** most important thing to me. Just like you're the most important person to me, Kamijou Misaki. I should be the one thanking _you_ ; for being my wife, **the** perfect wife… You're my best friend too. You always have been, and you always will be."

And, so, Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki, wrapped in one another's arms, shared the rest of their morning wordlessly. There was nothing left to be said with words. All else could be said simply through their shared embrace, and the tender, passionate kisses the married couple provided one another with.

Having been safely brought home by the combined efforts of a groggy Accelerator and a perpetually-talking Misaka Worst in the morning following the previous night's drunken escapades with the less overtly malicious clone of Misaka Mikoto, Last Order, Kamijou Index awoke. Without a hangover in sight, the silver-haired nun grinned smugly.

"Aha! I knew it! I'm still immune!"

Rubbing her eyes with her hands, balled into fists as she yawned and stretched herself, groaning pleasurably as she did so, Index rolled to one side of her bed, nearest the dressed adjacent, and grabbed her still-charging phone from the floor, where she'd placed it the night previous.

"Eleven-thirty. Overslept! Oh well. Better stick a piece of toast in my mouth and get a move-on! I wonder if Touma and Misaki are awake…?"

The repeated, rhythmic thumping – and the audible sound of bedsprings being forward inwards and bouncing back upwards with many a metallic 'clang' – originating from her guardians' room caused Index to narrow her eyelids and giggle aloud. Rolling her eyes, she thrust her legs outward, rose from bed, and hopped to her bare feet.

"Guess that's a solid "no."

Clad in her pajamas, which consisted of little more than a baggy, plain light blue shirt and a pair of loose-fitting shorts hidden beneath her shirt, which fell low enough past her thighs to compete with some of the dresses she owned, Index gently placed either of her feet into her nearby fuzzy slippers and departed from her room, in search of company.

She didn't have to look far; meandering about the Kamijou residence's living room was Sphynx, Index's very own – and very old – calico cat. The feline's aged green eyes looked up to those of his master. Walking about somewhat slowly upon rickety legs, the cat eventually decided to plop down upon the carpeted flooring, stretch, and produce a soft meow.

Soon by his side, Kamijou Index patted her old friend; and, immediately he began to purr in response, welcoming the sight of his oldest friend and master. Sphynx yawned, briefly.

"Sphynx!" The silver-haired nun exclaimed happily, rubbing the palm of her hand over the cat's side. He enjoyed himself greatly, and occasionally ran his tongue over his master's hand affectionately. "Good morning, sleepy-head."

"Good morning indeed, nun," came a tiny voice which could barely be heard over the sound of Sphynx's loud, constant purring. No more than fifteen centimeters tall, garbed in clothing which was surely intended to fit a little girl's doll – a tight-fitting, light-coloured turtleneck sweater and expensive-looking, miniature designer jeans – a tiny, former magic god made her way to her companion, and to her nemesis. "This wretched creature has not given me a break once this morning. I finally managed to tire it out by running in circles… Just barely."

Smiling, Index patted the mini-god upon her exposed head of flowing, naturally curled golden-blonde hair with a single finger's tip. "Good morning to you too, Othinus!"

"It would've been a better morning were I not being sized up like catnip," Othinus, the once-Magic God admitted sheepishly. "But you're a sight for sore eyes nonetheless. Protect me from this four-legged menace and I'll one day I'll owe you a favour. Probably."

The thumping was still going; and the sound of bedsprings rising, then falling, continued to be audible to all within the Kamijou residence. Were she some sort of anime character, Kamijou Index would've performed a 'sweat-drop'. Othinus rested her forehead in her tiny hand's palm and grumbled something inaudible under her breath.

"Humans _are_ sexually-charged creatures, aren't they, nun?"

"Well, yeah; but this isn't your average, everyday sexually-charged interaction. This is…"

The silver-haired nun placed a finger to her lip, and stifled a giggle.

"… **Advanced** sexually-charged interaction."

"A special sort, of which only these two procreative beings are capable," Othinus supplemented. "I do suppose we'll be left to fend for ourselves.'

"Hm…"

Soon cupped between her index finger and thumb, the silver-haired nun scratched at her chin thoughtfully. She looked upward, to the residence's ceiling, and scrunched her nose briefly.

"I know if we really needed Touma and Misaki, I could just knock. But… They love each other so much, and they don't get time like this often. I want to just let them have this, you know, Othinus?"

"No. I don't. I'm quite hungry, and when I become hungry I become cross. I will sneak beneath that door and berate them myself."

"Nah, you won't."

"Oh?"

"Because, if you try…"

Index's facial expression quickly turned to one of abject smugness; she might as well have thought she was the greatest thing since the creation of the entire universe, if her expression was to be taken at face value.

"… I'll put you in Sphynx's cage."

"Nooooooooooo! You wouldn't, nun! I merely jest! It was merely a jest!"

Despite herself, Othinus was laughing, slightly. It was a rare expression of contentment; one which had come to manifest much more commonly as a member of the Kamijou family. She sighed as it passed, appreciating it for what it was, and silently, deeply thanking those who allowed for it to arrive at all.

Index patted the former Magic God again, then rose to her full, imposing height – it was imposing to Othinus, at least.

"I'm **totally** kidding! I'd never do that to you. Don't worry, I'll get something prepared for us! In fact, I really should just prepare something for Touma and Misaki, too. Give them a break for once."

She took then to the kitchen, and began to prepare a dish which she knew well enough the entire family would enjoy; using those culinary skills taught onto her by her co-guardian, Kamijou Misaki, who in turn had been taught to her by her husband, Kamijou Touma, Index collected the necessary tools of the trade, while Othinus, too entered the Kamijou residence's kitchen and watched on, having little better to do.

"Plenty of eggs there, nun. And… Is that… Bacon?!"

The former Magic God's eyes lit up, as if some invisible switch had been pressed upon her. She licked her tiny lips with her equally tiny tongue, and, deep within her, the rumbling of her little stomach made quite clear the fact that her miniature body craved the loving touch of grease-covered bacon.

"Gonna scramble 'em!" Index announced, moving to and fro. "Just watch me go! I've got this cooking thing like it's nobody's business!"

Observing passively as Kamijou Index darted here and there, Othinus couldn't help but reflect; there had been a time when this girl was, truly, nothing more than a burden. A burden with a black hole for a stomach. Still, the former Magic God reasoned that it wasn't entirely her fault; the poor thing had never been taught anything, by anyone. Nothing that _didn't_ involve holding those hundred and some odd thousand Grimoires within her mind.

Regardless of the past, there she was. The nun – who certainly didn't look like one, in her exceedingly casual pajamas – a self-sufficient, capable, actualized young woman.

Index wasn't able to notice it, with all of the darting she was doing – not to mention the sounds of repeated clanging, likely silverware being moved about within bowls – but Othinus did. The thumping, and the metallic noises surely born of bouncing bedsprings had stopped.

" _It would seem that the "mating ritual of Kami-yan" has finally reached its end."_

And, thusly, after some time passed, both Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki emerged from their paradise. Misaki still clung lovingly to her husband's chest, her arms wrapped around him, her face nuzzling the side of his protruding, well-muscled broad shoulder. Touma's own arm was around his wife's shoulders, while their respective hands – those which remained available – were occupied with one another, their fingers tightly interlocked.

The married couple couldn't have possibly looked any happier.

"I wonder what all the buzz's about," Touma remarked, being unaware of that which was happening in his home's kitchen. "Maybe Index and Othi-chan are getting up to something with the cat."

His question was soon answered – at the sight of that answer, Kamijou Misaki produced a soft, drawn-out "awwww!"

"Index, sweetheart…"

Touma chuckled, exchanging a loving glance with his unconditionally adoring wife.

"Just relax, you two!" Index exclaimed. Her arm spun rapidly, scrambling a fluffy, yellow substance within a bowl obtained from the kitchen's hardwood cupboards. "I'm taking care of everything this morning! Just enjoy. You deserve it. Really!"

"Keep scrambling, nun!" Othinus proclaimed. "You've been at it, by my estimation, for approximately five minutes. Just a bit more. I believe in you, as much as I can believe in any human."

"I'll take that as a compliment and keep SCRAMBLING!"

Having little reason to protest, the married Kamijous took to their living room's couch. Throwing himself down comfortably upon the couch, Touma opened his arms, and tilted his massive, powerful neck to one side.

"Wanna cuddle, beautiful?"

Happily, Kamijou Misaki threw herself into her husband's waiting arms. Her own arms were soon wrapped around his broad, mighty shoulders. Nestling herself in, relaxing entirely as Touma's embrace tightened, warming her body, her heart, her very soul, Misaki breathed a sigh of utter contentment.

"You need not ask, husband; you always know the answer to that question. YES!"

Looking into her husband's eyes, she witnessed the same feelings wordlessly returned. Touma's expression was one of complete, unrivalled happiness, one which couldn't have been matched by a soul dwelling in Heaven itself.

He'd clothed himself before emerging from he and his beloved wife's shared Paradise; his simple, unadorned short-sleeved shirt clung tightly to his enormous frame. His hardened pecs, and his defined, barrel chest were visible through its fabric. The shirt's sleeves were no match for Touma's massive biceps; the fabric strained against him. His baggy, cotton pants, dark in colouration, weren't quite as 'snug'.

Misaki ran the tips of her bare fingers over a rock-solid muscle protruding from her husband's forearm, and giggled aloud.

"Look at you, my husband. You are so handsome. So strong… But there is so much more within you."

She smirked, snidely.

"All for me. All for your wife~."

"And no one else," Touma responded, tightening his embrace slightly. Misaki produced a soft, gentle cooing, a pleasurable verbal expression of her furthered contentment. "I genuinely don't have eyes for anyone but you. I've never had eyes for anyone but you, Misaki."

"And mine are solely for you, my most beloved prince."

He planted a kiss, then, on his wife's lips; and Misaki burst into another crimson blush. His lips were so soft, so gentle. His kisses were filled with so much unwavering, unconditional love. She felt it every time their lips met. She felt it rush through her, filling her very body and soul. Misaki responded in kind, her kisses passionate and infinitely adoring.

Two sets of lips which had only ever kissed each other.

"We ought to discuss our important matter with Index and Othinus over breakfast, Touma," Misaki stated between kisses.

"I wouldn't have hatched a better idea myself, beautiful," came Touma's response; it could barely emerge as it was. His wife had clambered atop him, and, holding each other's hands tightly, adoringly, she looked down upon him with glistening love in her eyes.

"I… I almost cannot believe this… This dream of ours may finally come true… That we may finally have a child of our very own…"

Touma smiled back. A wide, toothy smile, which followed his eyelids closing shut, brought about by pure, utter relaxation.

"We'll make this happen, Misaki, beautiful. I know we can. We're unstoppable. You and me, we're the dream team."

"As do I, my prince; my handsome, perfect Touma. As do I. Together, as one, there is _nothing_ we cannot accomplish… We truly are the…"

Kamijou Misaki couldn't help but giggle; especially as she kissed Kamijou Touma's lips, even as that goofy, toothy smile on his never faded for a moment's time.

"… The dream team."

"Dream team! WOO!"

"WOO!"

It had seemed like hardly any time at all had passed, truthfully; the Kamijous, having been so lost in one another missed most of the action. In the end, regardless of the misadventures they shared with one another while on their living room's couch, held tightly in one another's arms, both Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki found themselves in the same place: at the kitchen's table.

Beautifully carved, an oaken beauty if there had been such a thing – complete with a matching set of four chairs – the dining room set had been a gracious, perfectly preserved hand me down from the previous generation of Kamijous, Touya and Shiina.

"Let us say a prayer for this wonderful breakfast, shall we?" The silver-haired nun who hardly resembled such while in her current attire, Kamijou Index, exclaimed as she clasped her hands together; she'd only just finished dishing up. Having filled her own plate last, the girl closed her eyelids, and placed her clasped hands close to her forehead.

"Father in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thank you for this wonderful feast! Thank you for giving me the means to provide for the best family in the whole, wide world! Amen!"

"Amen!" Both Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki exclaimed aloud; Othinus quietly nodded in approval, but said nothing. She did not share Index's faith, nor did she humour it. Still, the girl's heart was in the right place. That much, Othinus knew well enough.

Immediately beginning to dig into their hardy breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon, the Kamijou residence was alight with compliments to the chef.

"I-Index!" Touma blabbered, his taste buds in a state of perpetual orgasm, "This is the best! I've genuinely only ever had scrambled eggs this good when Misaki makes them… Oohhhhh. I see what's going on here." He exchanged a grin with his wife.

"Right you are, my prince," Misaki stated, practically moaning. The softness, the fluffiness, the taste, it was all there. "It would seem my recipe was a success, after all. It was the extra milk, was it not?"

Enthusiastically nodding, her cheeks a bright, glowing red, Kamijou Index nearly bounced in her seat; the girl was elated.

"Spectacular, nun," the former Magic God, Othinus complimented. Taking another helping from her own, tiny plate, the fairy-like girl gracefully shovelled another fluffy clump of scrambled egg into her petite little mouth. "You'll be on kitchen duty from now on, along with Misaki."

"Perhaps I will make a lovely recipe with _you_ in it," Kamijou Misaki teased, causing the little former Magic God to start. Quickly patting the tiny creature on her head with a single finger, Misaki offered her once-enemy a bright smile; all was well. Othinus smiled back.

As a pleasurable silence descended over the table, Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki looked to one another. Their eyes lock, and, almost instantaneously, their hands were intertwined; Touma's right in his beloved wife's left. Their interlocking fingers cuddled against one another, and the two, though only partially aware, looked upon one another with a sort of unconditional, unwavering lovingness that was unique to this married couple.

"Oi, Index? Othi-chan?" Touma rhetorically inquired, "Now's a good a time as any for a family meeting. All in?"

"In," Misaki came with a nod.

"I'm totally in!" Index proclaimed excitedly.

"Outnumbered, per usual… I suppose I, too, am "in," Othinus spoke, chuckling softly beneath her breath.

Touma's courage, that which had carried him to this point, finally faltered. He didn't quite know what to say. The words, whatever they might've been, simply wouldn't come. Those which seemed to were flawed to him, improper or otherwise simply "not right".

Sensing this without needing to be told a word, Misaki's grip on her husband's hand tightened, and, smiling wide, she spoke for both herself and her husband.

"Touma and I have come to an agreement regarding a monumental decision, one which will change the course of our lives as a family… It is a beautiful one. It is a decision to be celebrated!"

Index tilted her head to one side, confused.

Othinus' single, visible set of eyelids widened, slightly. The tiny, emerald green iris within seemed to become just a bit more defined, and the pupil floating within dilated. Her hands balled into fists, her tiny digits tightening into an intense grip upon nothing at all.

Spurred to action by his wife's words, Touma continued where he'd left off. A great sense of responsibility overtook him, and brought back from the grave a part of him he'd thought long-dead, cast off like a coat in warm, summer months.

"… Misaki and me, we're going to have a child. A child of our very own. Both of us are going to be completely devoted to that child, and we're going to give them everything. Everything that's in our power to grant, it's going to be right there, whenever they need it."

Almost immediately, Kamijou Index's hands were clasped once again in prayer. Silently her lips moved, even as she grinned wide, from ear to ear, tears of joy beginning to roll down her crimson-tinted cheeks.

" _Father… Hear me! Please provide me with the strength I need to persevere! I want to do everything I can to protect my friends' child, when they're welcomed into Your world. Please, Father in Heaven, give this child Your blessing…"_

Striding across the table, her tiny bare feet slapping upon its cool, oaken surface one after the other, Othinus approached, her arms folded across her chest.

"I have nothing but encouragement to offer you. If there are two humans who should become parents, it's most certainly the two of you… Yet, I worry. As I've always worried. 'Imagine Breaker', as you call it, resides within you still.

"Even my own knowledge of its cosmic mechanics is fundamentally limited. That which you possess is beyond my understanding, and beyond the understanding of my betters. The one man who perhaps did understand it has been dead for nearly a decade. Surely, you understand my concern."

Offering his spare hand to the former Magic God – who promptly climbed upon it and accepted what embrace her 'jailor' could provide – Touma stroked Othinus' golden hair with his thumb. Misaki's own hand joined her husband's, and, together, their hands formed something of a warm, supportive cradle for the fairy-like girl.

"I really appreciate you looking out for us like this, Othi-chan," Touma explained warmly, "But, I've been talking to it for a long time, in my dreams. We finally had our longest meeting last night; it assured me nothing bad would happen. Any other time it's assured me of something, it hasn't tried to steer me wrong. I think it – or whatever might be in there – really is in my corner."

It was a satisfactory explanation. Othinus merely nodded, accepting what her jailor stated as fact. He had no reason to lie, nor would he; Kamijou Touma was many things to Othinus, but he was no liar. If 'it' was lying, Othinus, despite her handicap, would find a way to make 'it' suffer. Terribly.

As the family finished their breakfast together, Kamijou Index remained in prayer. Eventually, when she did emerge from her trance-like state, she seemed particularly pleased with herself. Still sniffing as tears of joy continued to freefall, the nun quickly vacuumed up that which remained of her meal.

"This is so joyous!" She cried aloud, smiling as wide as wide could be. "I'm so happy for you! Aaaaahhh! I could just explode! FINALLY!"

Rising from her seat, Index collected her plate, then moved to her guardians' own.

"Let me and Othinus take care of the dishes, you two. If you're going to bring a beautiful little baby into the world, don't you… Well… Erm… Well…"

"Spit it out, nun," Othinus grumbled. What false sourness she could manifest quickly faded, and the former Magic God found herself giggling once again. A strange, tingling sensation in her chest jumped up from her belly, all the way to her throat. It was warm. It made her smile, and, just a bit, it made her tear up. "All of those who aren't mere toddlers know what must be done. These humans in particular are experts in their field. They require no coaxing to breed."

Despite herself, Kamijou Misaki rested her hand over her lips, and chuckled softly into it.

"Well, my prince? Index is correct. There _is_ something which must be done… And, this time… There will be nothing separating us, will there?"

He rose to his full, imposing height. A defined, muscled body, just slightly over seven feet tall. The gargantuan growth spurt his body had experienced following the throes of puberty had reached its pinnacle, leaving Kamijou Touma a living titan.

Without effort, the exceedingly gentle giant scooped his wife into his arms. The ecstatic happiness that shined from her features, as she wrapped her arms around her most precious husband's broad shoulders set Touma's body and mind alight with positivity.

"Yer comin' with me, lady!" Touma shouted, putting on something of a forced, aggressive accent that didn't quite mix well with the Japanese language.

"Oh dear! I am being abducted by a towering… Strong… Handsome… Loving… Perfect… I-I, ah, erm, mean, a moonnstterrrr! Whoever will rescue the Queen from her predicament?!"

And, like that, Kamijou Touma, with Kamijou Misaki held tightly, securely and adoringly in his powerful arms, disappeared into he and his wife's Paradise, their sanctuary, their place of rest: their bedroom.

A softly giggling Index, who'd already begun the process of cleaning up after the meal she'd prepared turned to the former Magic God, Othinus, who had seated herself politely on the kitchen counter nearby the sink. She'd made quite the trek, quite quickly, for someone of her miniscule stature. Sitting upon her legs, folded beneath her posterior with her hands in her lap, the one-eyed fairy girl posed a single question.

"Was this not the inevitable path?"

The nun raised an eyebrow. Othinus was thereby encouraged to extrapolate.

"Two people who adore each other as much as Touma and Misaki will inevitably reach such a conclusion, as is the nature of human biology. I feel as if, by avoiding this fate, they merely postponed the inevitable. Their shared concern for their offspring's wellbeing stunted what likely should have occurred sooner."

The fairy girl stroked her chin, thoughtfully.

"Ah, forget it, nun. Pay no attention to me. I merely question the workings of the multiverse, and fate as a primary mechanism within it. I should know better; these two have long defied fate. They rightly exist beyond it."

Othinus peered down at her own thighs.

"I'd believed myself a god once, nun. You know that. I held within the palm of my hand what I'd believed omnipotence. Even without… Gungnir…"

Simply saying the name of that accursed, bleak weapon – for a weapon it surely had been within her hands when she'd wielded it against Kamijou Touma and Shokuhou Misaki, as she'd been known then, nearly ten years ago – brought the former Magic God to a violent, repulsed shudder. A bitter sense of self-loathing washed over her.

"… I know all of that which is of cosmic scale. Truthfully, with _that_ weapon, I'd believed myself to have attained omnipotence, and, ironically… Found it wanting."

The nun, Index, had taken to standing before the former Magic God. She'd bent her knees, so that her face, with her two round, curious eyes could be on equal level with Othinus' own. The silver-haired girl tilted her head, then offered a finger to the fairy girl. Othinus accepted without hesitation. Taking the outstretched digit into her own two, tiny hands, she held it tightly.

"Othinus, this has really stirred up a lot of emotions in you, hasn't it? It's done that to me, too; but I couldn't be happier. It just makes you think, and look back on things! Like when I first met Touma and Misaki on that morning."

The once-Magic God nodded, silently, then spoke once more.

"To think that both of those humans would accept me, not only as a friend, but as a member of their family, after all I had wrought… I must admit, it does make me feel like even more of a monstrous abomination than usual."

"Othinus!"

Index became sterner.

"I won't have you talking about yourself like that. Nope! No way! Hush up with that talk! You're not an _abomination_! You're… You're my friend! OUR friend! And you always will be! We all love you!"

"T-T… T-Thank you, nun… Index. I l-love you, as well. You will always be among my dearest… Friends… Even if I may often have a difficult time of showing it…"

"Othinus… No tears, now! C'mon!"

Index gently wiped her finger's tip across the former Magic God's moistening eye. Othinus herself ran her arm across her face.

"Tears"? Are you daft? My allergies are acting up, little more. Being mortal is not without its faults."

"… You have allergies, Othinus?"

"I do now, nun."

Like two baser life forms rising from primordial ooze, having shed their clothing and taken to their retreat, the most prevalent aspect of their Paradise, their conjugal bed, Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki rolled over one another with passion, their bodies wrapped tightly in each other's arms.

Touma's hands had fallen to his beloved wife's posterior, clamping on tightly and forcing moans from her mouth whenever he would squeeze even slightly. Misaki's multitasked – one ruffled her precious husband's dark hair, while the other was bound firmly upon his throbbing manhood.

"M-Misaki! I love you… I love you!"

" _My_ Touma… _My_ prince… _My_ husband… I love you, too… I love you so deeply… My heart, my soul, my mind, my body… all of me belongs to you and you alone!"

"A-And all of… M-Misaki… You're gripping it so tight… All of me belongs to YOU! G-Grip it tighter… H-Haaaa… It feels so good…"

Touma's expression was one a man striding through the meadows of Heaven might've worn. It was pleasured beyond all pleasure. Utterly at peace. In a state of bliss incomparable to anything else.

Then, Kamijou Misaki grinned. It was a sly, smug thing; and it only began to grow.

"Say, husband… Would you like to play a little game with me? Foreplay always _does_ act as the spice of life, does it not? There is no 'wrong answer'. Just be honest, my prince."

"I… H-Haaaa… Wouldn't expect there to be… You've always been so perfect, Misaki. I'm down, if you're down… Although…"

Tightening his embrace, Touma clung to his wife, who quietly cooed under her breath and relented.

She could tell precisely what he wanted, and was more than merely 'happy' to oblige. She returned his embrace in full, encompassing his full body in her arms. Situating the side of his face so that his ear was pressed against his doting wife's quickly beating heart, Touma permitted himself to become completely vulnerable before her. He clung, tightly.

"You always have loved being cuddled like this… Tended to. You are so precious to me, Touma… My dearest. My sunshine. My love and my joy… There, there… Cling to me, as much as you'd like. I will always be here."

Feeling his wife's beating heart, feeling it continuously thump against his face, Touma's steadily closing eyelids finally settled. He slept not, but instead, simply enjoyed Misaki's presence; and Misaki treasured his in turn. Slowly stroking her husband's head, never breaking her embrace, she softly, repeatedly cooed, lulling him.

"There… There, there. My beloved prince… I feel you. I feel your soul connecting with mine. I feel us becoming one with eternity, and all that there is. You are nervous, aren't you?"

"Of course I am, beautiful… This is a huge thing we're doing. This is a massive step. I want this, so much…"

"As do I! As do I, my husband! I want this so very much… I always have."

"But, am I good enough? Misaki, will I be a good father?"

Misaki placed a kiss to her husband's head, never relinquishing her embrace; she wouldn't, so long as Touma didn't.

"You need not hold such thoughts. You will be the best father there ever was."

"I guess that's just a doubt a lot of us have. I'm sure my dad felt the same way, and his dad before."

"Of course, my prince. Creating life is a monumental responsibility, one which very few are well and truly prepared for. Yet, it is often the challenges presented by life that shape us. And… We know much of challenges."

Chuckling, Touma loosened his grip, slightly, and Misaki loosened hers, in turn. Pushing himself upward so that his gaze was on equal level with his wife's own, his dark irises meeting Misaki's golden, starry ones, he gently, lovingly kissed his wife's soft, delicate lips. It was a kiss she swiftly gave into, one she fell deep into, head over heels.

"How are you so smart? Misaki, you're actually the smartest person I know."

"I take it you are feeling better, now? Is your mind clear? Or would you prefer to talk more? My ears are always yours, and they are always listening whenever you may need them, my precious husband. Simply say the word."

Between their kisses, Touma finally responded, "Better."

"Then let the foreplay commence."

Suddenly, Kamijou Misaki rose. She sat up, pulling her three hundred pound, muscled husband up with her, experiencing little in the way of difficulty. If she'd wanted to, she likely could have "bridal carried" him, as he so often did for her.

Misaki's defined, toned body was not one of a snacking, tea-drinking 'ojou-sama'. It was the body of a warrior-woman very much capable of holding her own.

Despite this, her expression turned to one that such a girl would've shot at a passerby, if she'd believed said passersby to, perhaps, not be worthy of even being in her presence. Misaki's eyelids narrowed, and her lips scrunched.

Kamijou Touma's manhood promptly surged, throbbing violently once more.

" _My wife is catering to my fetishes! YES! SUCH FORTUNE! BEST! WIFE! EVER!"_

Huffing, Kamijou Misaki pointed to the floor just to the side of the bed.

"On your knees, peasant. At once."

Obeying without objection, Touma nearly threw himself from he and his wife's bed, falling so deep into this fantasy of his. It was a rabbit hole he was all too happy to lose himself in. The feeling of being completely and totally dominated, yet, outside of this fantasy play, remaining on completely equal terms, was one without rival.

Her long, light blonde hair flowing as she too rose, Kamijou Misaki stood tall before her kneeling husband. She stroked his face, the true, loving, ever-adoring wife she was briefly shining through before she rebuilt the mask, that of her 'ojou-sama' character within this fantasy play.

"Look at you. Twitching like that. _Disgusting._ "

Touma could have lost all control right there and then. The way her lips curled around her words, the way each syllable was accentuated, it was enough to drive him near the edge of madness.

"My Queen… What would you ask of me, your lowly peasant servant?"

"Kiss. From my thighs, all the way down to my toes. At once. Don't you _dare_ miss a spot."

Requiring no further encouragement, Kamijou Touma was upon his wife, just like that. Still kneeling, he pressed his lips to Misaki's thick, milky thighs. The long, passionate kisses placed upon them, and downward as he made his way there, were enough to cause her to moan aloud; it may have broken the fantasy, but nature simply could not be denied.

Quickly, Misaki gripped her husband's hair in her hand, and forced his face deeper.

"A-Ahhh… My prince… Is this too rough? Does it hurt?"

"Not at all… You can be a bit rougher, actually. Thanks, beautiful…"

"Haaaa… Haaaa… Of course… Tsk. You pervert. Filthy, degenerate pervert…"

Neither husband nor wife could keep their foreplay going for much longer. Their instincts were becoming too powerful for either to stand. It wouldn't be long before their respective wills gave way, crushed as the floodgates burst open, torn asunder by nature's might unfathomable.

No matter how strong the married couple was, they could not resist their natural impulses; Kamijou Misaki faltered, then laid herself bare, completely and utterly vulnerable, before her husband. Lifting her legs, parting them, Misaki smiled up at her beloved Touma, who quickly found himself between them.

Their eyes' gazes met.

There was something different, this time. This occasion was different from the married couple's sacred lovemaking sessions. The air was different. The feelings within them was different. Both could feel how the world around them had seemed to change onto itself.

Touma wore no condom. There was nothing to keep his bare manhood from his wife's constricting walls.

Taking his wife's hands into his own, their fingers interlocking, Touma leaned inward. Pressing his lips against his most beloved Misaki's, causing her cheeks to immediately begin glowing a shade of crimson, the married couple met in a passionate kiss.

"Are you ready, Misaki?"

"Y-Yes! YES! Yes, my prince! My husband, my love, my sunshine! I am ready!"

"I love you, Misaki. I love you so, so much."

"And I love you, Touma! More than any force in this universe, or any other! **I LOVE YOU**! There… We will hold hands, just as you have always loved to. I love holding hands with you, as well!"

As her husband entered her, Misaki's legs quickly wrapped themselves around her husband's back. Her eyes rolled back, into their sockets. She could barely restrain herself. The monstrous moan she could have uttered would have disturbed the entire apartment complex. Kamijou Touma had entered. Gently, slowly, lovingly, he pushed himself deeper.

"I… Misaki… It's so tight. I can feel it squeezing… You feel so good. I love you… Misaki, I love you… I love you so much. So, so… So MUCH!"

"And I love you with all of my heart and my soul, Touma! **YES**! **YES**! We are one!"

"This position's different… Beautiful, are you okay? Does it hurt?" 

"I am fine! I-It does not hurt at all! It feels... It feels so wonderful! Y-You are such a gentleman... So kind... So loving... So gentle... So affectionate... MY HUSBAND!"

Touma could feel his wife's walls pressing down on his manhood. Seeing her throwing her head back and gritting her teeth in pleasure, feeling his own fingers between Misaki's, the married couple found themselves in their own slice of heaven, together.

For nearly an hour, neither would give in. The stamina Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki had built up over their frequent lovemaking sessions proved to be too potent a force to be overcome quickly. Of course, neither husband nor wife were keeping track of the time. In their slice of heaven, perhaps only a few minutes had passed, at most.

But, in that critical moment, once Touma reached the pinnacle of pleasure his body was capable of withstanding without a singular orgasm, he knew it. He was made fully aware by his higher mind that he could stand no more.

"I feel you throbbing! My Touma, my LOVE! I feel you! Do not hesitate! I love you! I love you so very deeply! D-Do… Haaaaa… AH! Do not feel apprehension! Do not fear a thing! I will **always** be here with you! Touma! TOUMA!"

"M-Misaki… I love you too! So, so, SO much! I don't fear anything at all, Misaki… All I feel is… All I feel is love…"

Tightly embracing one another, Touma's body bucked, thrusting downward, deep into his wife as he climaxed. Like a tidal wave rising from the ocean, Misaki lifted herself, her arms around her husband's shoulders, tears of joy streaming from her eyes. The enormous smile upon her face stretched from ear to ear. Kamijou Misaki's long, light blonde hair flowed as if it had been lifted by a breeze while her chest arced.

Held tightly in one another's arms, Touma and Misaki wordlessly celebrated their accomplishment, that which could only have been possible with each other's passionate, unconditional, unwavering love for one another.

Somehow, the very fabric of the multiverse itself was shaken.

In this reality, a bleak, unspeakably tragic fate had been averted; and, thus, from the potential for tragedy unimaginable rose something beautiful beyond measure.

Accelerator, sprawled on his couch in his home's living room felt _something_. Misaka Mikoto's clones, Last Order and Misaka Worst, felt _something_. Sogiita Gunha and Trafalgar Junko, engaged in their daily weightlifting competition, felt _something_. Misaka Mikoto, the Railgun, felt _something_. All of those who had ever befriended the Kamijous felt _something_. A pulsating sensation.

Perhaps none had felt it more intensely than Kamijou Touya and Kamijou Shiina. Shiina's hand went straight to her heart. She smiled. As Kamijou Touya was presently attempting to navigate the tightly-packed streets of metropolitan Tokyo behind the wheel of their vehicle, he could not immediately give thought to that which he'd felt.

" _A mother's intuition knows. This feeling… Could it be…? Are we to be grandparents…? Oh, I can only **hope**! Please, let it be so!"_

The blood-soaked walls of the arena were shaken to their core. A massive structure built from what resembled the weather-worn bones of gargantuan beasts, covered in jagged, protruding spikes which jutted in all directions, the arena, surrounded only by vast expanses of wetlands with sparse vegetation finding foothold in the murky swamps, played host to a great and terrible battle.

A massive, bulky man, his body covered in scars and scabbed-over, healing wounds charged forward to meet his foe. A makeshift mask carved from what resembled the sundered bark of a tree adorned his face, as did a single, crudely-forged metallic pauldron dangling from his broad shoulder.

His fist arced outwards, the hook catching the face of his foe. The terrible thing appeared to be some sort of humanoid dragon; it was standing upright as a man would, yet wore a visage of overtly draconic features – from a defined, jutting snout, to jaws filled with yellowed fangs, bat-like wings protruding its back, and a long, lashing tail slapping against the arena's earthen ground.

Then, the dragon-man's tail lashed out of its own accord. A colossal barb, dripping with purplish-black poison, was jabbed into the scarred muscle-man's chest. With its prey injected, already beginning to stumble awkwardly, the dragon-man closed what distance there was between itself and its foe, snarling, saliva dripping freely like so many miniature waterfalls from its jaws, grabbed the scarred muscle-man's shoulders, then, bit deeply into his neck.

Lifeblood spilled from the wounds, as razor-sharp fangs cleaved through flesh and shattered bone.

" **TOTAL DOMINATION! DRACONID WINS! FLAWLESS!** "

An arcade cabinet's protruding control sticks were released as two opposed players reached the climax of their bout. Sweat-drenched, the cabinet's well-worn command buttons were provided with a much needed rest.

The flashing lights of the arcade – the only real light which was available in the otherwise darkened venue – just barely highlighted the disappointed facial expression of one of those girls who'd taken to standing before a tall, expansive, brightly-coloured cabinet on the arcade's fifth floor. One of many balconies overlooking the vast, ground floor below.

The arcade itself, as a whole, was designed to resemble something ripped straight from nineteen nineties America; a living echo of a long-distant capitalistic dream fuelled by a surge in hope and worldwide positivity ushered by the great collapse of the Berlin Wall, the final nail in the waning Cold War's coffin.

Greyish-white walls, black and white tiled floors, and neon. So much vast, glowing neon. Shades of purple, shades of blue, shades of red. Neon light fixtures were abounds in this place, whether they formed lines which rose and fell like the patterns of an ocean's waves, mounted upon the walls, or circular fixtures built into support beams. The various restaurants which had set up shop within the arcade, complete with a small food court, to better supply – and profit from – visitors, too, had storefronts covered in multicolored neon lighting.

All of these wondrous sights, the wondrous sounds of laughter, of arcade games being played, of machines being hogged and surrounded by those looking to attain the highest possible scores in their favourite titles, and all Kouzaku Mitori could do was grumble under her breath at her utterly embarrassing pummeling.

Her short, purple-coloured hair was highlighted repeatedly by flashing, golden-white light beamed down upon her by various light fixtures dangling from above. Her deep, purple eyes, however, were not distracted. Mitori simply could not, for the life of her, rip her gaze from that arcade machine's enormous, glowing screen, and the images it contained. "Draconid" was performing some sort of victory dance. The beast repeatedly flapped its enormous, bat-like wings, lifted its body from the ground, then settled back in place as its jaws snapped at the air.

A part of Mitori wanted to sit down on a nearby, cushioned bench, and consider her options. There had to be _something_ she could do. Clad in a proper-looking black dress shirt with a defined, white collar and a pair of tight-fitting, dark-coloured jeans, she repeatedly tapped her feet, clad in dark-coloured flats, against the tiled flooring.

Given that it was almost midway through October – the eleventh, to be exact – Mitori briefly admonished herself for not wearing boots, or at least sneakers. The season's mild temperatures were beginning to leave a chill in her bones.

"AHAHA! Sorry, Mi!"

The girl who was vigorously pumping her arm in the air, an expression of smug superiority etched onto her blushing face, vaguely resembled Academy City's third ranked level five esper, Misaka Mikoto, the Railgun. Her long, chestnut brown hair which fell past her posterior matched perfectly her eyes' own colouration. Compared to Kouzaku Mitori, this girl was dressed far more casually; and, to that end, her clothing was better suited for the temperature. A green, hooded sweater, sweatpants which hugged and accentuated her fully-matured body and their rolling curves and a pair of stylish, light-coloured trainers adorned her.

This body was not her first.

Mitori blinked, several times.

"We need more tokens, Dolly."

"E-Eh? You want to play _again_ , Mi?"

"Yes. I _will_ defeat you, no matter what."

The girl, Dolly, rubbed her eyes with her hands, balled into fists. Standing upon her toes, she stretched her body and repeatedly smacked her lips in a very unladylike fashion, stretching.

"Mi, I feel like you're taking this a bit too seriously…"

"Nonsense. To the elevator! Are you coming or not, Dolly?"

"Comin—"

Both girls were struck by _something_ , there and then. It hit them both right in their chests, in their hearts. It was something akin to a sudden rush of excitement. Foreign, difficult to understand, yet something that was not at all malevolent. Both Dolly and Mitori felt as if some great hurdle had just been leapt over, some great obstacle overcome, with finality.

"Dolly… Did you feel _that_ , too? Right in your chest?"

"Mhm… You felt it too, Mi? That was… Hehe. It kind of felt nice, actually!"

"It did, but… What WAS it?"

Distracted, both girls took some few moments to think on the matter. It didn't take long before the truth overtook them both, as if they'd been standing in shallow walls at just the right moment for a wave propelled by harsh winds to surprise them.

"Misaki and Touma!" They both exclaimed aloud.

The sunlight beaming in through the window of the married couple's Paradise, permitted to come as it was by the fully-parted curtains bathed Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki, cradled in each other's arms, in its warmth.

Still without clothing to obstruct their efforts to remain as one, the married couple simply stared quietly into one another's eyes, stopping only to blink occasionally. Touma, looking deeply into the golden, starry eyes of his beloved wife, placed his fingers gently to Misaki's cheek, and stroked it as he might've stroked a precious, priceless treasure.

Kamijou Misaki's blush deepened. Producing a soft, contented coo, she cuddled even closer to her deeply adored husband.

"Misaki? Beautiful?"

"Hm? Yes, my sunshine?"

"I was just thinking about something. About names, actually. Names that aren't totally stupid, don't worry."

She couldn't help but giggle. Misaki kissed Touma's lips, then placed another to his forehead as she rubbed the tip of her nose against her husband's own.

"I am so excited, my prince! I have been thinking similarly, though I must admit, I was enjoying myself a bit too much, and so our silence remained unbroken… Shall I begin?"

"Please, beautiful. Ladies first."

"I do very much like 'Seiji', if we were to have for ourselves a dear, little boy. 'Just and lawful'. As for a beautiful little girl, I do believe the name 'Natsumi' would be most fitting. After all, it was a name Shiina was brilliant enough to consider."

While Kamijou Misaki took to repeatedly kissing her husband's defined, muscular pecs, Kamijou Touma, with his arms still wrapped tightly around his wife's warmth-producing form, briefly considered what examples he himself would offer.

"Seiji is pretty good; I'd hit more closely for 'Mieko'. You know what that one means? 'Beautiful, blessed child'. As for a baby girl… Yeah, we're tight there. Natsumi would be my choice, too."

"I suppose, my prince, we have both been considering these matters for longer than we'd like to admit, even to one another."

That hit Touma fairly hard; his wife was absolutely right. They really _had_ been considering a lot of things relating to children, hadn't they?

"Better late than never, huh?"

"Better late than never, my prince. Better late than never."

Just as Misaki was about to mount her husband and ride him all the way to another climax – she was _so_ close, mere moments from leaping upon him like a predator having long stalked its prey, in fact – her smartphone nearby, left with its locked screen facing the ceiling upon the nearby nightstand, began to ring.

"My evil plan is foiled," Misaki playfully hissed; placing a warm, passionate kiss to her ever-loving husband's lips, she rose, approaching the edge of the bed then sitting herself down upon it. Reaching out for her phone, Misaki swiftly answered the repeatedly-ringing thing, and pressed it against her ear.

"Helloooooo~! You've reached Kamijou Misaki."

Kamijou Touma dragged himself towards his wife – he was quite unwilling to move far from the warmth provided by the sheets of their conjugal bed – and, turning himself upon his back, invited himself for a 'lap pillow'. His wife welcomed him, smiling so warmly, so eternally adoringly, beginning then to stroke his scalp delicately with the tips of her slender, feminine fingers.

"Misaki, it's Mitori here…"

"AND DOLLY!"

"O-Oh! Dolly! Mitori! My dearest friends!" Misaki cried out excitedly. "It is so very wonderful to hear from you! I do hope you are keeping well! Say, just where _are_ you? I hear such racket from your end."

Kamijou Misaki had no means of knowing it, as she wasn't engaged in a video call, but Kouzaku Mitori and Dolly exchanged smug, knowing grins.

"Just the Pixelworld Arcade… Mama Misaki…"

Biting down onto her lip in an effort to suppress her laughter, Mitori struggled against her innate desire to laugh at her own joking mockery of one among her closest, most beloved friends. Dolly, similarly, attempted to stifle her own giggles by releasing them into the baggy sleeve of her sweater.

"Mitori! H-How did you… Ah. I ought to have figured something like this would happen. I do have to wonder, now, just how many people now 'know', so to speak."

Kamijou Touma had taken to keeping himself by occupied by fiddling with locks of his wife's long, sumptuous, light blonde hair, even as Kamijou Misaki continued to delicately and wholesomely pleasure him of her own accord.

"It's happening again, huh, beautiful? Just like our first time?"

"Quite, beloved husband of mine. It seems so!"

Misaki had learned long ago to simply giggle at occurrences such as these. Such was the nature of her life with her husband, Kamijou Touma – a life she would willingly hand over all of the unquantifiable multiverse upon a silver platter to protect and preserve. Occurrences such as these had become commonplace, no longer anything to even be surprised over.

"You should come, Misaki! Bring that big man-hunk of a husband with you. It's been way too long. Dolly misses you guys, too."

"YEP!"

Apparently, someone nearby in the Pixelworld Arcade must have hit a particularly impressive high score; rounds of enthusiastic cheers broke out, sounding more like an army's thunderous war-cry than a mere expression of excitement over some numbers flashing upon an arcade cabinet.

In response, Touma shrugged nonchalantly.

"Misaki? I'm down if you are. Those two are always up to something. Can't see the harm in joining up for a bit."

"I would love nothing more, my prince! Let us make this an even more beautiful day!"

Of course, there was one problem.

"Mitori, I presume you would be able to supply directions? I do not think Touma and I have ever been to this venue before."

"I'll just text, make things easier on us all. Oh, yeah. Mama Misaki. Do you lovebirds have a car yet? Should probably get on that. **Eheheh**. Mama Misaki's going to be taking her little one to soccer practice."

"Misaki! Misaki! I'll babysit!"

The excitement in Dolly's voice brought a feeling of fulfillment upon Kamijou Misaki. That girl truly meant a lot to her.

"Is there a specific time when Touma and I ought to be present by?"

"Nope; just drop by whenever. Dolly and me are going to be here _all day_. Speaking of which, about those tokens… You still owe me a rematch."

"I'll beat you again, Mi!"

"Misaki, Dolly and myself have a score to settle. Just text when you get here. Good-bye!"

As the call ended with Kamijou Misaki bidding her dear friends farewell, she returned her phone to the nightstand nearby, and allowed her body to fall backwards, onto the bed.

Instantly, Kamijou Touma's arms were around her back, and he was atop her; Misaki welcomed her husband by returning his embrace ten times over. Kissing either of his cheeks, her gleaming, golden, starry eyes looking up at him, she promptly entangled Touma further, binding him with both her powerful arms and her equally mighty legs.

"I love you so very much, my prince. You are the light of my life. Every day with you is such fun! Every morning I awake with you in my arms is another day in Heaven! My most precious, caring, affectionate, gentle… Perfect… Sweet… Communicative… Husband… As you fill my thoughts, I find myself in _need_ , again… Nature does truly despise virginity."

Taken into a deep, passionate kiss, Touma didn't immediately respond in kind, with words.

"I love you too, beautiful! Misaki, you're actually the best wife ever. I just love talking with you, and laughing with you, and… And just, living with you, in all the ways we live. I couldn't ask for a better woman to spend my life with… I want to _show_ you just how much I appreciate you. Sometimes words just don't cut it, and now's one of those times. We don't need to worry about condoms anymore, so…"

Kamijou Misaki, pulled into another passionate kiss, her crimson blush intensifying as she comprehended her husband's words, spoken purely from his heart, born of unconditional, unwavering adoration for her and the life they loved together, shared together, moaned into Kamijou Touma's lips.

"Just take me, my prince! Just take me, already! I am yours!"

She promptly placed a pillow over her face, anticipating that which would soon come…

Thrusting deep into his wife, causing her to toss her head back and scream into her pillow in pure, adoring ecstasy as she felt his considerably-sized, throbbing manhood enter her, Kamijou Touma did **take** Kamijou Misaki.

"Hm…"

In her room, well-illuminated by the sun's golden-white light, beams of sunlight covering her and the one who had taken to observing her activities, Kamijou Index repeatedly tapped the surface of the controller clasped in her hands. One of her silver-coloured eyebrows was raised, while the other had sunk.

The spacious, elegantly-decorated room had been recently tended to and cleaned thoroughly. The breezy scent of air freshener wafted about freely; sitting on the carpeted floor in front of her enormous, widescreen television to which her state-of-the-art, current generation cycle videogame console was connected, she debated with herself.

A static background, appearing to have been drawn by hand, one which depicted an idyllic beach setting with rolling, blue-white waves, a nearby natural beach whose golden sands were accentuated by the presence of tall, elegant palm trees gleamed upon the television's screen, while three options obstructed the image, plastered somewhat haphazardly over a transparent, dark-coloured background.

"KISS" was option one.

"GROPE" was option two.

"CONFESS" was option three.

Kamijou Index turned to the former Magic God, Othinus, perched upon her shoulder, one of her tiny legs elegantly crossed over the other's thigh. The fairy-like girl blinked her single, visible eye.

"Nun, we are _not_ losing again. You need to consult the online walkthrough."

"N-No way! That's TOTALLY cheating! I'm going to win Emi's heart no matter what!"

"… There are other, superior pickings in this dull protagonist's harem."

Thoughtfully, Othinus cupped her chin in her hand, and leaned forward; just a bit. If she leaned too far, she would tumble quite unceremoniously.

"Aside from ironic purposes, such as ours, why would any human wish to play a game like this? It's dreadfully dull. These female characters, every single one – none of whom have any real connection to the protagonist, save for being 'rescued' – exist solely to fawn over and follow him, as if they were lost puppies.

"What interests do they have? What are their hobbies? Surely, there must be something more to them. I suppose if these characters were self-actualized and fleshed-out, they would not be so willing to mindlessly tag along, clinging to the coattails of an empty husk masquerading as a 'main character'."

For a moment's time, Index simply looked at the former Magic God.

"Othinus, I think you're… Yeah, you're over thinking this. Take a chill pill! Turn off your brain and try to relax. This is just to laugh at. Nobody **actually** plays dating sims like this unironically."

"My travels through the Internet suggest that you're incorrect, nun."

While both nun and once-Magic God debated amongst themselves, they heard the sounds of Kamijou Touma and Kamijou Misaki meandering about; they'd just entered the residence's bathroom. Running water, cabinet doors opening, then closing, and the quiet creaking of the floors suggested the married couple were preparing themselves for something, of some sort.

"Wonder what those two have going on?" Index thought aloud. "I think I heard Misaki talking to people on the phone, can't be sure though."

Poking the nun on her cheek with a little outstretched finger, Othinus returned her attention, then, to the television's screen.

"Oi, nun. Make a selection. I wish to see this Ayato character die embarrassingly again."

"No way! I'm going to make the right selection this time! I mean, _one_ of these options has to be right. We know it isn't 'kiss' now… I hate these yandere types! Why hasn't she been booted from the harem yet?!"

"Because Ayato is a spineless herbivore male lacking the courage to even attempt to defend his honour when accidentally stumbling in upon a bathing maiden. That fool girl had left the bathroom's door open, and he had done no wrong. The dullards who wrote this script should be beaten senseless. How vexing."

Ignoring the ranting once-Magic God, Index chose the 'CONFESS' option.

'Ayato' was promptly stabbed to death. The game's narration described how his guts spilled from the wounds inflicted upon him through repeated, vicious knifings. The narration went on to describe, in vivid, gruesome detail how scavenging, opportunistic elements of the animal kingdom made quick work of his remains.

"Good!" Othinus proclaimed, folding her arms across her chest and nodding triumphantly.

"So… GROPE is the right option?! No way… Such misfortune."

Placing her controller down next to her folded legs and rubbing her temples with her fingers, the silver-haired nun grumbled quietly under her breath. She'd been booted back to the game's title screen, and had the option to continue from her previously saved game.

"Othinus, you wanna play some Bloody Fist, or something?" Attempting to put on the accent a Californian surfer might've natively possessed, Index stated plainly, "This is, like, a total bummer, dude."

An expression of abject determination formed upon Othinus' little face.

"Of course, nun. I could never turn down such a proposition."

Plugging in a second controller, quitting the visual novel she'd been playing previously, then placing the console's secondary controlled upon the floor for Othinus to wield as best she could given her body's handicap, Index rustled about, hyping herself up.

Nearly an hour of blood-drenched brawling – and many losses on Index's part – later, the closed door to Index's bedroom slowly opened.

"OTHINUUUUUUSSSSSSS! HOW ARE YOU SO GOOD AT THIS?!"

"Muahahahaha! My supremacy cannot be subverted! My divinity is absolute!"

Both Index's and Othinus' gazes quickly found themselves pulled from the television screen, and towards the opened door to the silver-haired nun's room. Both were utterly taken aback by the sight before them.

Kamijou Misaki was garbed in a fashionable, golden-coloured jacket, unzipped partway down. Faux fur enwrapped its hood. A blouse was beneath it, which exposed her neckline. A tight-fitting pair of fashionable, dark-grey leggings adorned her lower body, as did warm, fluffy socks. Misaki's long, flowing, light blonde hair fell past her posterior; with its divide rising partway up, her hair's trademark, it gleamed beautifully beneath the sunlight filtering into Index's room.

"Holy _wow_ ," Index blabbered only quasi-coherently. "Misaki! You're breathtaking!"

Othinus simply, silently looked on in awe.

A blushing Kamijou Misaki looked to the floor, smiling warmly.

"Index, you are too kind to me. Thank you so very much for your compliments."

Soon after entered Kamijou Touma; his towering, muscular body, so tall was he that he had to duck beneath the doorframe leading into his charge's room, had clothed himself in a similarly impressive manner. A blue, plaid shirt, buttoned nearly to its collar with its sleeves rolled up to Touma's elbows clung tightly to the curving, rock hard muscles of his arms and chest, while dark-coloured denims caressed his powerful legs.

Both Touma and Misaki's respective outfits were completed by the physical representations of their holy matrimony, their matching, golden-coloured wedding rings, worn on either of their ring fingers.

"Index, Othi-chan," Touma began as he stood behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her form from behind and giving her neck a series of gentle kisses, causing her blush to deepen, "Me and Misaki are heading out to catch up with some friends. You two want to come along?"

"Actually," Index interrupted sheepishly, "I had something going on with Last Order and Hyouka today, if that's okay…"

Giggling, Misaki simply remarked, "of course it is okay! Do keep in contact with us, just so we know you are doing well. And, of course, should you need _anything_ , we will be a mere phone call away."

"What Misaki said," Touma corroborated with a chuckle. "You're a big girl, Index. We trust you completely."

Othinus raised her hand, then.

"… I would like to come along, humans. Sitting about the apartment alone is not my preferred way of spending the waning hours of a weekend."

Gently freeing herself from her husband's warm, loving embrace – but not before kissing him passionately, adoringly on his lips – Kamijou Misaki scooped the former Magic God into her hands, and placed the fairy-sized girl gently upon her shoulder.

"Then you will come. It will be splendid to have you with us, Othinus. The more the merrier!"

Touma quickly knelt by Index, and took the silver-haired nun into his arms; embracing her tightly, it was an expression of his paternal love for her, an expression which she returned.

"See you later, alligator. Love you, so much."

"Look at you! Already making dad jokes, Touma. No, really… You're going to be a really, really good dad. Love you!"

Misaki, too, opened her arms, and embraced Index tightly, just as Index embraced her.

"Index, dear, you remember what I taught to you? Hm?"

"Yep. Hyouka's going to be there, though. She's strong. Nothing to worry about, I promise! And _you_! Misaki! You're going to be the best mom in the universe! I **KNOW** it!"

With their temporary goodbyes settled, Kamijou Misaki quickly took Kamijou Touma's hand into her own; their fingers interlocked, tightly binding around one another through instinct alone. She offered her husband a love-struck glance, one which, while lasting mere moments, told him all he needed to know; he _felt_ her unconditional, deep love for him course throughout him, filling him like some heavenly, limitless source of energy. It was the same glance Touma offered his most beloved wife in return.

Leaving Index to her own devices in her room, the married couple, along with the once-Magic God Othinus riding upon the shoulder of her 'co-jailor', slipped on their footwear – a pair of thick, reinforced hiking shoes and stylish, shin-high, high-heeled boots, respectively – and departed from their home, together as always.

Their journey began there and then, just as another one was unfolding.


End file.
